


Everything the Light Touches

by ParamnesiaGirl, SangNoire, theknightofmind



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, Other, if that matters, no names either self insert yourself, the most viewed fanfic with MCxLucio is a smut one shot and i cant let that stand, the original sucks so here we are, updates highly dependent on the devs and my motivation, warning: the lore is super enhanced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParamnesiaGirl/pseuds/ParamnesiaGirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SangNoire/pseuds/SangNoire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theknightofmind/pseuds/theknightofmind
Summary: “Beautiful…” A ghostly ebon claw emerges from the darkness with a whisper, reaching for the golden arm but recoils from my circle of candles. Blood-red eyes watch my every move, just outside the candlelight.“I know who you are.” I speak meekly, voice almost catching in my throat.Rising from the ground, I stand and face the ghost, protected by just five small candles. “I know who you are...Count Lucio.”~Feel like Lucio's route was lacking in character development? Want a more complex villain? Think the magic & tarot system we were given doesn't tie into the plot enough except for exposition? Then look no further. This is a rewrite of Lucio's story starting from VI - The Lovers till XXI - The World. Whilst the starting chapters might be similar to the actual story, the plot will most certainly diverge and I hope, showcase Lucio in the spotlight he deserves.
Relationships: Apprentice & Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	1. Author's Preface

### Author's Preface

After reading through the contents of Lucio’s story so far, I find myself robbed. A great villain, with plenty of backstory, reduced into a needy toddler with none of that bravado he had before. As a firm lover of complicated characters, and a student rushing to practice for her essay writing, I decided that I should write this wrong, to fix it, to give myself the satisfaction of seeing a character get the story arc they deserve.

I believe Nyx Hydra made a mistake in their story writing. They made a complex villain with complicated motivations, but couldn’t find a way to redeem him in the eyes of their fans. This is why, I believe, we ended up with this version of Lucio with his wrongdoings being reduced to ‘oopsies’ (literally, during the story he calls them this).

The issue I seek to rectify, is to dismiss the notion that Lucio even needs a redemption arc. ‘Even evil has loved ones’, or so the TV Tropes saying goes, and that is the type of villain I wish to portray. One that’s willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want, scheming and conniving, never willing to compromise. Yet they can find love, find themselves being attracted to someone and due to that, wanting to change for that someone.  
  
I've chosen the name 'Everything the Light Touches', after the famous Lion King quote, where Simba asks his father if everything belongs to him. I think, as Lucio's name has it's roots in Italian with the meaning 'illumination, light', that this is extremely fitting. A king wanting his throne, taking everything he touches. 

This won’t be a fluff piece, as I intend it to be a serious writing that I will be using to practice for my other works and studies. I will be posing some complex questions that some might not be too comfortable with reading, such as topics on the notion of ‘what is good and evil?’ or ‘is so and so crime justified? Even if only for personal gains?’ This is why the work is listed as mature, even though I have no plans on having any smut whatsoever inside. If you aren’t someone who can take this sort of content, then this might not be for you.

The Apprentice will be gender neutral in this story, occasionally being referred to as ‘Magician’ or ‘Apprentice’ only. I will mention no names and try my best to stick to their original backstory (and for other characters as well), though I will probably try to fill the gaps between the magic system Nyx Hydra did not focus on, such as the matter of the other tarot cards and their significance. I will also explain a bit of what I write at the end of every chapter, just to clarify some things and gather my thoughts.

I hope you like this piece, as I’m going to be pouring my soul into it. If I make any mistakes with pronouns, please comment so I can fix it. And if you want to test-read or suggest any changes to the overall story, feel free to contact me in the comments, I use Reddit and tumblr, so you can reach me on those platforms. I have plans to diverge from the story and if it gets enough traction, ask the readers to make the choice of what the Apprentice does next.


	2. VI - The Lovers

###  **VI - The Lovers**

  
“There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.”  
― Bram Stoker, Dracula  
  


Today I stand on the staircase to the abandoned Palace wing, gathering my courage. Temperatures feel like they drops a few degrees as I enter, causing me to clutch my hands closer to my chest as if that would warm them. The floor must be the culprit, its marbling cool to the touch without the endless stream of servants rushing about this part of the Palace to warm it. Well that, and bare bones lighting, with only a few of the hanging lanterns lit, filling the hallway with a soft glow that served to only make it more eerie.

Mercedes and Melchior doze on the steps, though their crimson eyes open when I approach, their heads wrapping around each other, almost as if they are observing my movements. It wasn’t hard to picture them as more wolf than dog with fear at the forefront of my mind. 

Gnawing unease settles in my stomach, eating away at my courage as it tries to hold strong. The last time I climbed these stairs, I saw something; A shadowy apparition, with onyx horns, hungry red eyes and a fleece of snow. Not quite different from the appearance of the two hounds, though I remember it eyeing me with some sort of hunger instead of curiosity. 

It must be connected to recent events. Something must’ve caused it to manifest. Maybe something related to the Masquerade, to my investigations, or maybe something darker. 

No matter. I need to find the ghost...and get some answers from it.

A strangely warm draft rushes down the stairs, stirring the dogs’ fur, ruffling it and stirring them into action. Their ears stand on end, and they each fix one red eye on me in sync, as if the two were one half of the other.

This spurs me to move quicker, and I try to carefully step around them, giving them as much space as one can between these walls that seem to almost start to close in on me, not wanting to intrude any more than I already have.

Though they watch my every step, they make no attempt to stop me, only their heads following my movements like living statues. It was almost as if they were hunters stalking their mark, and that would make me their prey. A thought I try to push out of my mind immediately. I’m letting my mind run wild, these two have not shown ill intent towards me yet.

The vague sense of dread only grows when I reach the top of the steps, the gnawing becoming a full-blown monster inside of me. My conscience screams at the back of my head that something is wrong here, and I mentally yell at it to quieten. The lanterns that lit the hall don’t have much of a presence here, and as I go further in everything darkens around me.

Warm air blows from the room at the end of the hall, but I feel almost frozen with fear as I watch the door swing open, gently swaying on its hinges. It’s as if something wants me here, wants me to enter. It creaks ever so slightly from the lack of being as well-oiled as all the other Palace doors, a result of the servants avoiding it like the Plague, no doubt.

Bone-white ash billows from the room beyond, swirling down the hall towards me like a blizzard of warmth. I blink rapidly to clear them so that I may stare at the swaying door, stopping in my tracks as I do.

...I could run away. Hide in my magic shop, and never return. Hell, I _want_ to run. 

But I _am_ a magician, the only one here able to get answers from a strange ghost and the stranger events surrounding everything here. They must have my answers.

I double-check the contents of my bag. Herbs, candles, spellbook from the Palace library...and the protective charm I found at the shop yesterday. It seemed prudent to keep it at the time, and now as I enter, I am thankful that it is here, the faint scent of myrrh comforting me. I play with the emerald around my neck, hoping that I could feel just a tad of the magic that Asra has, but the gemstone is as cold as the atmosphere and brings me no peace.

With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and march into the room, the time for preparation over. Pushing away the last remnants of my common sense and fears, I enter.

The first sight that greets me is a ruined four-poster bed, a faint breeze blowing through the tattered curtains that cover it. Ash taints its every surface, should-be white sheets a dark, condensed grey. Goosebumps form on my skin, despite the unnaturally warm air that tastes of air circulating the room.

I conjure some light to help me see, but it’s barely a wisp between my fingers. A brief instant of panic and surprise crosses me as I try again. My magic feels...dull, unresponsive, a flame being smothered into a smoke. I swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s dry and hoarse from all the powdery ash I am inhaling.

A pale shadow moves in my peripheral vision, rattling the bed-frame and shaking off some of the ash into the vicinity, causing me to cough into a fist. But when I whirl around, all I see are the remnants of a heavy desk. There's a white peacock feather quill, trembling in its empty inkwell. Leftover papers rustling under a paperweight made of a large ruby carved into a stone. 

Something - or someone - is _definitely_ here with me.

“Show yourself!” I shout into the air, hiding the hesitation behind bravado. 

A low whine echoes behind me, I jump about a foot into the air-

Mercedes and Melchior stand in the doorway, teeth bared right at me. Their eyes that were a pale maroon in the light now seem to be piercing scarlet in this darkness, boring holes right through my soul. I see the drool in their mouths as they snarl at me and suddenly it isn’t too hard to imagine my head sandwiched between those jaws.

I hastily step back from them, trying to calm my hammering heart that’s threatening to break out of my chest and make a run for it without the rest of me. The dogs must’ve followed me up the stairs. A perfectly reasonable, mundane explanation.

They growl softly, dagger like eyes fixed on me...then slink off to nose around the room’s shadowy corners. Their snouts twitch in all directions, sniffing, seeming to be looking for something. The smaller of the two nudges a large wooden chest, causing it to teeter, overturning with a groan and slam heavily onto the flooring.

The lid breaks off messily, splinters flying in every direction and hinges snapping clean off, making me jump once more. The contents within spill across the dust-covered floor.

Clanking against the marble, a golden arm lies amid the rubble and ash, long fingers outstretched towards me, as if beckoning. Despite the rest of the room being blanketed in dust, the arm seems to be in mint condition, its golden sheen visible from being spared the fate of being sullied by time and abandonment after being laid to rest in its wooden coffin.

“ _Mine, mine…”_ A soft, hissing voice, floats past my ear. Chills dance along my spine, and my palms grow sweaty with jitters. It tugs on my aura, pulling my attention towards the enormous portrait on the wall making me feel even more so uncomfortable than I already was.

The painting is large, spanning the entire length of the room with a golden design swirling around it as if to highlight. Count Lucio adorns it with a prideful expression, dressed sharply in red military wear and an ostentatious cape of white fur coupled with more golden adorations. He stands in a pose that screams ‘I am the greatest!’, hand on hip and gaze on the horizon. One foot clad in a leather military boot that extends to his knee is put atop of an animal skull that seems mildly familiar, but that doesn’t draw my attention as much as his golden arm. My eyes fall upon it, following the thin white lines that trail it from his shoulder down, as it clutches a sword of cold steel and once again, a golden hilt. The man really loves his precious metals, anyone can infer that much. The replacement appendage is polished to the point of a blinding gleam, a true compliment to the Count’s ‘glowing’ personality I’ve heard about.

The larger dog picks up the golden arm, dragging it over, and drops it at my feet. It is now covered in dust, ash, and doggy drool.

“Uh, thanks?” I pick up the arm and brush some of the dirt off gently, mindful of the expensive robes Nadia had provided me with. The arm clangs hollowly when it comes into contact with the pearls on my arm, so I jerk them further up and hoist the heavy arm into my hold. 

The dogs have quickly lost any interest in the chest and its contents, wandering off to sniff at the other nooks and crannies of the room. How they can sniff around so close to the ash without sneezing once baffles me.

I stare down at the arm. Mine...the voice had said...perhaps I have a use for this then. Just like I did with Julian’s drawings, or with Asra and the emerald, I could use the arm as a focus to draw out this ghost. Though getting it to come to me instead of me to it, might be somewhat harder. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Rummaging through my bag, I fish out a handful of white wax candles, each thin and as long as my hand. Carefully, I stand the candles up in a wide circle, seating myself in the middle.

Holding my fingers over the first wick, I close my eyes and focus my magic, lighting it and drawing heat. One by one, I do the same for each candle, lighting the oppressive atmosphere with every spark.

The dogs’ noses twitch as the sharp scent of fogwood fills the room, turning their attention only partially to what I’m doing as they continue to search for whatever it is they’re looking for.

When I pick up the gauntlet once more, the fingers now feel...warm to the touch. Every inch of the golden arm is infused with powerful magic, wrought with exquisite skill. It hums softly at my touch, as if responding to my own magic.

“ _Beautiful…”_ A ghostly ebon claw emerges from the darkness with a whisper, reaching for the golden arm but recoils from my circle of candles. Blood-red eyes watch my every move, just outside the candlelight.

“I know who you are.” I speak meekly, voice almost catching in my throat.

Rising from the ground, I stand and face the ghost, protected by just five small candles. “I know who you are...Count Lucio.”

The ghost snarls at me, a low, wounded sound that echoes through the room. It’s laced with forlorn sorrow.

Mercedes and Melchior’s ears perk up at the sound of Lucio’s name, bumbling over one another to reach me. The ghost’s eyes soften at the sight of the dogs, and I see what I think is a smile before his head snaps back towards me.

I let out a long, slow breath, to steady and calm my nerves. I’d thought this apparition might be Lucio, the painting had given it away easily. But...why is he still here? And why in this strange, goatish form?

“Step into the light.” I demand and he edges just a bit closer, enough for me to clearly see his outline.

“ _It’s about time! Has everyone finally come to their senses?”_ His voice is a sharp shrill that rings in my ears.

“What are you talking about-?” I am about to ask before being rudely cut off.

“ _I’m talking about ME! No one worthwhile ever came looking for me!”_ Lucio dramatically places his hand to his face, wiping away imaginary tears, “ _I was abandoned, forgotten, tossed aside! Me. Lucio, your beloved Count! Oh I’ve been so lonely…_ ”

A few seconds pass before I realise my jaw’s hanging open, “Everyone in the Palace was frightened. They said this wing was…” I hesitate, unable to find a more tactful term.

“Haunted.”

Lucio scoffs, shaking his horned head, “ _Haunted! Dimwits! I’m not haunting anything! I’m just...just…”_ He trails off, but I say nothing. Soon it seems Lucio can’t bear the silence.

“ _Did anyone else come with you? Or were they all too_ **_frightened_ ** _?_ ” 

I shake my head, “I came here alone.”

The dog with the tattered ear gives me a very offended whine.

“Er...rather, with Mercedes and Melchior.” I offer.

Lucio visibly deflates, curling in on himself, “ _I knew it. I KNEW it. Well. I refuse to be forgotten so easily!_ ”

I squint at him through the gloom, trying to make sense of all of this, “You’ve been here in this wing for three years? Ever since the last Masquerade?” This is unbelievable, unprecedented. I’ve never actually encountered a ghost, let alone one that should’ve been set free long ago. What is keeping him here?

He nods glumly at my question, face solemn and sad with the idea that he had been abandoned.

“What happened? Why didn’t you leave?”

“ _Oh please, give me a little credit. You think I haven’t tried to leave?”_ He sounds offended that I would think him that incompetent and incapable, “ _I can wander for a little while but something keeps pulling me back.”_

“ _...Is it because I look like this? Am I not fit to be seen?”_ Heartbroken at the thought, he places a palm over his eyes, covering them and shaking his head wistfully. Lucio peeks at me through his claws, voice soft and plaintive in my mind, “ _Do you think I’m scary? Are you going to run from me too?_ ”

“I don’t think you’re scary.” I speak clearly, his appearance isn’t something terribly monstrous. Heck, the dogs and their very real and very sharp teeth scare me more. Though I don’t voice that thought, he might somehow get even more offended.

There’s a pregnant pause before Lucio slowly removes his claws from his face and stands fully, letting me realise exactly how looming he actually is. 

“ _You don’t?_ ” The incredulousness in his voice is identifiable and he takes a single hooved step closer to me. His feet leave no impression in the dust and ash. The dogs wag their tails excitedly at Lucio when he approaches, though they stay just out of his reach.

“They don’t think you’re scary either.” I chuckle at their moment of adorableness.

“ _Oh...That’s...good._ ” If anything, he sounds a bit disappointed, “ _I was hoping to make an_ **_impact_ ** _, you know? Be a bit more impressive.”_

I can feel his gaze on me, even as he fades from view. Wait…

Suddenly, a shudder runs through the room, shaking the floorboards and scraping along the walls, and for a moment I am under the impression that an earthquake is occurring. A ghostly howl rebounds against the walls and makes me shudder. However, nothing penetrates the circle of candles around me.

Lucio materializes again, looking distinctly ruffled, fur sticking out in every direction. “ _How about that? Was that scary?_ ”

“Uh, not really.” I pretend that it didn’t shake me up ever so slightly at the suddenness of it all.

He grumbles, watching me with a grudging admiration through his clawed fingers, “ _Tough crowd, aren’t you?_ ”

“I can see you, I know you’re here. Why would I fear you?” I reach across the circle of candles, holding my hand out to him, causing his outline to shiver with an unseen breeze that ruffles his white fur.

Unsure of what I’ll find or feel, I brush my hand against his, to find that I am pleasantly surprised. Under my fingertips, there’s a hint of soft fur and an impression of silky strands running through them...but there’s no warmth to him, no true flush of life.

He feels half-there, half-real, neither in this world nor out.

“ _You’re warm._ ” Lucio sounds slightly surprised, and I think that this is probably because I am the only living thing to come into contact with him in the past three years. It must’ve been so...lonely.

Ghostly fingers slip between mine, onyx claws lightly clasp my wrist as if afraid to let go.

“ _Real...alive...everything that I’m not._ ” His eyes blaze with naked envy, but with a hint of what seems to be regret, transfixed by the sight of my hand in his.

I take another step, standing with one foot in the light, the other in darkness, almost but not quite leaving my protective circle. Even in death, Lucio stirs up the feeling of wanting to get close to him in others.

He slides his hand up my arm, staring at me with a child-like wonder, “ _Oh, and your magic is so strong…_ ” 

I’m stunned for a moment, “You can sense my magic?” Is this a ghostly ability? If it is, it's one I've never heard of.

“ _It’s all around you. Your...aura, or whatever that’s called._ ” He searches my face, his eyes alight with dancing candle flames, “ _You’re a magician. You could help me...right?”_ Lucio sounds like he’s prodding for answers, and I wonder if he’s unsure that anyone can help him.

“Help you...how?” 

He gestures impatiently at his white fur, hooves, and overall goatish form, “ _Looking like this was a fun novelty, but I’m over it now._ _I’d be really_ ** _grateful_** _to anyone who could throw some magic my way._ ”

He makes an attempt at a winning smile, but it comes out as a grimace of sharp teeth, which prompts me to create some distance between us, centring myself squarely in the midst of the candles. 

“Listen...I can help you, but I came here to find some answers about how you died. Maybe if I knew more-” Cut off again, I mentally roll my eyes at his impatience and rudeness, but what else can you expect from a former Count?

“ _Answers? What good are answers when I look like_ **_this_ ** _?!”_ His head snaps up, and he focuses on me with a new intensity, voice rising to a pitiful whine, before fading into a whimper. Pity crosses my mind.

“ _Ugh, I just want...I just want…”_ He lifts a clawed hand, pointing to his portrait, “ _I want to be beautiful again. You could do that for me, couldn’t you?”_ Drifting over to the painting, Lucio runs his one hand lovingly down the canvas, close to stroking it.

“ _Perfect hair, powerful arm, flowing cape…Ah, I was magnificent. You could make me look like that again.”_ He sighs slightly, “ _Oh and don’t forget the fur trim, I’m very partial to that._ ”

I can’t help glancing up and down his strange form, cocking my brow whilst looking right at him, “You’re already covered with fur.”

He groans, his sharp white teeth flashing at me through the gloom, “ _Ugh, very clever. You what I meant!_ ”

Glancing to and fro the shade of Lucio and his painting, I decide that changing his appearance shouldn’t be too difficult, though I’ve never done it before. Luckily he’s in his ghostly state, which should be easier manipulated than a more material form. 

I dig out the spellbook from the Palace library, looking for the section on ghostly manifestations, flipping through pages and pages of runes, symbols, spells and other magical incantations. Lucio drifts closer to me, until his head is resting barely above my shoulder.

“ _Well?_ **_Well??_ **” He eyes me like an eager child, irritatingly and without contribution.

“Be patient. I’m trying to read.” It came out harsher than I expected, but it still wasn’t enough to get the message across.

“ _Patient?_ **_Patient?!_ ** _It’s only been three years!_ ” A blast of hot air rushes through the room, snuffing out some of my candles, leaving only three remaining protectors, not that I think I needed them anymore. 

I sigh. Closing the book, and relighting them both anyways, “And now you’ll have to wait a little longer.” I’m sure Lucio wouldn’t try anything while I’m trying to help him, but he could use a lesson in waiting either way.

He grumbles something inaudible then slinks back into the darkness to wait with the two dogs. They all watch me with the same ill-concealed impatience, like three hungry hounds waiting to be fed, every moment of their attention concentrated on my actions.

I return to the book, and find the relevant spell...it’s deceptively simple.

Restoring a ghost’s human appearance only requires a magical focus, and a drop of blood. With the golden arm, still alive with latent magic, I had my focus. But for the other components…

I flick my gaze towards Lucio over the edge of my book, who’s now sulking in the corner, wondering when I’ll be finished. He even huffs out a sigh as if I’m keeping him from something.

 _He_ doesn’t have any blood to power the spell, so it’ll have to be mine. However, Asra’s cautioned me about using blood before, the most powerful of magic components. Some even say to use blood is to toy with the power of life itself.

Using _my_ blood would mean...tethering Lucio to _me_. 

The thought makes me shiver. This isn’t what I had signed up for when I climbed those stairs leading up to this room, and definitely not the most ideal situation in any case. But it might be the only way to get the answers that I need.

“Count Lucio?”

At the sound of my voice, he leaps forward, almost running into the candles, “ _You can do it? Of course you can! I had a good feeling the moment I saw you.”_ He spills out compliments like water, coming to him so fluidly, I’m starting to realise.

I fold my arms, “I can help you look human again...but there’s a catch.”

“ _Fine. Whatever you need to do, just do it._ ” Lucio is just about past waiting at this point, I can see his eyes set on the prize in front of him.

Shaking my head, I try to finish my sentences before he gets another chance to cut me off, “No. Listen to me. You need to understand. If I cast this spell, your spirit won’t be connected to this wing of the Palace.”

“ _Great! That’s even better-_ ” I turn the tables on his excitement and cut him off for a change.

“You’ll be connected to me. You’ll go where I go.” Almost like another prison in itself, really, “Are you sure you still want me to cast this spell?”

Lucio just laughs, a low soft rumble that I feel deep in my bones, “ _At least you’re cute. Better you than this stuffy old place._ ”

Cute?! I gape at him. Is he...did I just hear him try to flirt?!

“ _I agreed, didn’t I? What are you waiting for? Go on then.”_ Taunting, is how one would describe what his words sound like. And all the while, he practically bounces on his hooves in a mix of impatience, excitement, and unadulterated joy.

I balance the golden arm in one hand, and the spellbook in the other, a feat, considering both are considerably heavy. As for the blood, since I didn’t bring a knife, I make-use of the gauntlet’s razor-sharp fingertips and prick my finger slightly.

“ _Whoa, whoa, what are you doing? That’s sharp!”_ Lucio’s eyes grow wide in worry, probably due to his meal-ticket being harmed.

“I know. That’s the idea.” Snippily, I shoot back a reply, before taking a deep breath and concentrating on the image of Lucio in the portrait, imaging his smug face in my head.

Then I press my index finger firmly into the gauntlet, drawing a thin stream of blood as I pierce deep, shrugging off the pain in favour of keeping focused.

As my blood runs down the veins of the golden arm, its enchantment comes to life, bathing us in a crimson light and summoning a vortex of ash that prompts me to close my eyes tightly together before the ash can attack me.

Everything swirls chaotically around me, whipping my clothes into a frenzy and I hear the dogs panicky whimpers and yelps of alarm. When I open my eyes just a peek, there is a glint of gold and a hint of white fabric, crimson eyes glowing…

As abruptly as it began, the chaos came to a halt, a cool breeze clearing the room of ash and haze. The unnatural warmth of the room from before has faded, and I see standing before me in all his glory, Count Lucio, ghost rising from the floor on one knee, dust falling off of him in a cascade. He opens his eyes to reveal two brilliant coals, burning hot.

“It worked?!” His voice seems more natural, no longer with that unnatural shrill nor the ghostly tone as accompaniment. ‘Right. Yes. Of course it worked!” 

He starts to inspect himself in a nearby sooty mirror like a peacock admiring their own feathers, grinning from ear to ear. Now I could see his egotistical expression in real-time, though there was some alluring charm behind his smile.

“Mercedes, Melchior, daddy’s back! Did you miss me?” Lucio coos at the two dogs, patting his knees and beckoning them to him. The dogs leap to their feet, tongues lolling at the sight of their master.

“Do you want some fresh air? Yes you do! And so do I!” Not even waiting for him to finish his sentence, the dogs bound out the open door. One must wonder if the dogs learnt it from their owner or if it was the other way around.

The man of the hour turns to me, twirling his shadowy cape with a flourish, “Are you coming? You don’t want to hang around this gloomy place, do you?”

Around me, after the ritual, the room has become a mess of papers, ash and torn scraps of old fabric everywhere on the floor. Burnt debris decorates even the furs I have been given.

“No, not really.” The oppressive feeling is gone, but the decor and overall lack of lighting still makes this room out to be dreadfully depressing.

‘Come on then. There’s something you should see.” He extends an arm as an invitation, and I hesitantly take hold, though since he _is_ still a ghost, my arm feels as if it can slip through his easily. In my fanciful clothes and his very Count like appearance, it would almost seem like we are some lordly pair, I muse.

Lucio leads me into the hallway, following the trail of ashy dog paw-prints. “I know all the secrets of this place!” He proclaims proudly, “This is just one of them.”

We turn a corner, facing a blank stone wall, where the paw-prints stop, though there’s no sign of them. Lucio strides forward, pulling me along with him, right through the cold stone. I shut my eyes in anticipation of...something, only to feel the magic wash over me, enveloping me from head to toe. A strange aura hurtles me into oblivion and as shadows soar past, I find myself holding onto Lucio firmly.

The smell of grass and flowers hit my nose, as I pitch forward. Lucio catches me just before I hit the dirt with a golden hand. Dirt…? I’m...outside? There are birds in the trees, and a gentle breeze stirring the leaves. I think this is the Palace gardens, but how did I get here? 

“Ahhh…” Lucio exhales and inhales deeply, “Sunshine, wind, fresh air, _freedom_!” He lets go of me and strides through a hedge, pushing branches aside, seeming more corporeal than before my spell, more present in the world.

I look behind me, where there is no stone wall. Just an old crumbling archway covered in vines and bittersweet plants, their red fruits dotting the cracks.

“Pretty neat, huh? The Palace is full of weird portals and secret passages.” Lucio plays the role of host naturally, “Perfect for eavesdropping, if you know what I mean.” He sends a wink my way and we hear a bark from the other side of the shrubbery. Mercedes and Melchior burst into the clearing where we are.

“Who wants to play fetch? Go...find a stick!” Lucio throws a fake stick, but the dogs yelp and jump onto him, trying to lick his face, doing anything but finding a stick. Then the larger dog with the tattered ear approaches me, tail wagging slowly and expectantly. 

“Aww, look at that. Melchior likes you! Don’t you, handsome boy?” At the sound of praise, the smaller dog pauses in its attack on Lucio and sprints towards me, almost knocking Melchior over.

“And Mercedes...likes you too?” He sounds astonished, “Weird. She never liked anyone else before.” 

Both hounds weave between me and Lucio, tails wagging into fluffy white blurs. They seem to want to play with the both of us.

“They always want attention. Go on, they won’t bite.” 

I lean down, cautiously extending one hand to each dog, to sniff, but they bounce all around me, barely able to sit still, shoving their snouts against my palms and pawing my clothes. I run fingers through their soft fur coats, rubbing their ears as I go. Melchior flops onto his side, limps as a noodle, when I hit a good spot between his ears, legs splayed every which way.

“Not everyone appreciates how beautiful they are. Aren’t you, my lovelies?” Lucio kneels in the grass to pet the dogs, to which they enthusiastically reply with licks to his face. He laughs, a hearty laugh, and it rings in my mind. 

“Hahahaha! Stop, you’ll get drool all over me! I just got handsome again!” He doesn’t mean it, and continues to let them slobber all over him, uncaring about appearances just for a moment. With their combined weight, they knock him to the ground with an ‘Oof!’ The lighter one sits on his chest, while the other lies across his legs, both effectively pinning him down.

Lucio’s translucent hands wrap around each dog to the best of his ability, stroking their long white fur in what can only be described as pure happiness. I can’t help but laugh along with him, at one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen. Who would’ve thought I’d see the Count in such an unkempt state?

“Mercedes, Melchior, up!” Lucio commands, but it falls on deaf ears, they’re too busy licking his. He braces his hands on the ground, but is still just a bit too insubstantial to push them off completely. Slumping onto his back, he splays his limbs in every direction, fingers curling into the cool soft grass, having given up.

“I could stay here forever. It’s not such a bad fate.” He lifts his head over Mercedes’ shoulder, looking at me, “Unless you want to give me a hand?”

I reach down and offer him my hand, but when we make contact, an electrifying shock of magic runs through our fingers, causing us to gasp.

For a fleeting instant, he felt warm. Alive. Just like me. Both of us stare at each other, as the feeling fades, still hand in hand.

“Can you do that again?” Lucio almost pleads with me, he definitely felt something similar.

“I didn’t do anything. It just...happened.”

“Well, I’m not complaining. I’ll take anything you got. Here, if you just pull a little to the left-” Both dogs growl when I try to pull Lucio to his feet, prompting him to launch into a scolding, “We’ve talked about this! You can bite _other_ people, but not the people I like.”

The growling slowly subsides and both dogs slide off Lucio’s chest, allowing me to pull him to his feet so that we are facing each other. The two then trot off into the garden with a parting sniff.

“You like me?” I ask jokingly, giggling like a school-girl.

Lucio blinks, looking surprised that I’d even ask, “Well, yeah. You got me out of that stuffy, gloomy wing when no one else did. I’m...thankful.”

I manage out a shy, soft, “Oh.” And let Lucio brush off dog fur and blades of grass.

“Whatever magic you did was...uh, good.” He nods once to reaffirm his statement, obviously unused to giving out heartfelt compliments or thanks, and shuffles his feet in the grass, looking as uncomfortable as I am.

“Then maybe...you could answer some questions for me in exchange?” It seems as good a time as any to ask. He’s certainly in a much better mood than when he was a grumpy goat-man.

He chuckles, “A few answers for a spell? That’s the easiest deal I’ve ever had the pleasure of making. Though let’s take the talking to the fountain.”

That seems like an odd request, “Why?”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but most people can’t hear me. If anyone’s eavesdropping, they’ll think you’re talking to yourself.” He glances around as if to check for figures behind the shrubbery and trees, “The fountain will drown out your voice, if you keep it down.” 

That’s...a surprisingly good point. I _am_ still Countess Nadia’s guest. I wouldn’t want any rumours about me flying around the Palace. 

“Alright. Let’s go. Though you’re going to have to lead, I don’t know where exactly we are right now.” I look around and scratch my head, none of this greenery looks familiar.

Lucio practically beams when I tell him to lead, “Of course!” And begins marching ahead, leaving me to catch up behind him and his excitement.

~

By the time we get there, the setting sun bathes the fountain in a soft golden light, creating a dazzling scene before us as the waters reflect the light onto the nearby leaves that then fracture it into a thousand dazzling sparkles. The whole place glitters, and illuminates Lucio’s translucent features. For a moment, he’s alive, a prince charming straight out of a fairy-tale. 

He perches himself on the edge of the fountain, tapping his fingers on the stone, “So…”

I swear I’ve read something like this in a romance novel, the classical scene where one lover confesses to another. I blush, he _is_ quite handsome. Thankfully, the now fuchsia tones of sunset give me a cover.

“You wanted answers. But where do I even start?” Lucio rubs his hands together with obvious relish, ‘Oh, how about this? Nadia has you hunting for the wrong person. That hack doctor didn’t kill me.” He smirks and leans back, folding his arms, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“What are you talking about? Doctor Devorak confessed to murdering you.” I state pointedly.

Lucio makes a great show of rolling his glowing eyes, “Oh, please. That sounds just like something Jules would do.” He affects a tragic pose, with both hands over his heart, “I’m Julian Devorak, and no one understands me! I must bear my own pain!” 

He breaks character and bursts out laughing, completely unable to keep a straight face. “I’d remember if Jules murdered me, and I’m telling you that he didn’t.”

Gazing up at the palace windows, Lucio grows wistful, “I hear all the gossip and scheming at the Palace. I know everything Nadia’s planning. Your manhunt for Jules, the Masquerade…”

A fond smile crosses his face, “I do love a good party thrown in my honour, and I appreciate the dramatic touch of hanging Jules as the opening act.” Then he drops it in favour for a pout, “But the party rooms sound so boring! And there isn’t enough gold trim in the-”

I clear my throat before Lucio gets too far off topic, “If Julian Devorak didn’t kill you, who did?”

Lucio shakes his head, his face twisting into a scowl, “I’m obviously _not_ dead, or I wouldn’t be here talking to you. I’m...I’m just…” A huge white bird screams overhead, as Lucio struggles to find the words. 

“I’m stuck!” He admits with a cry, “I’m not really alive, but I can’t move on either.” His golden arm moves to clutch the edge of the fountain, leaving faint lines in the stone as he does.

“Do you have any idea what it's like? I see the sunshine, but I can’t feel its warmth. I smell the kitchens baking at night, but I can’t taste a thing.” At this point in his rant he seems distraught, “And sometimes I hear things in the darkness…”

He runs both hands through his hair, voice tight with frustration, trying to regain composure but failing miserably. “I don’t give a damn about Jules, or Nadia’s little investigation. I have to move on from this...this...from whatever’s happened to me!”

“How would you move on?” Lucio stops, pauses, for a second, staring at me.

“ _What?_ ” He squirms a little when I hold his gaze.

I ponder aloud, “You don’t seem to be truly dead or alive, so there are only two ways you can go. Back into life, or whatever comes after death.”

“Well obviously I don’t want to die. I haven’t even partied with-”

“You want to come back to life? That’s what this is all about?” My question cuts right to the matter at heart, leaving him unable to deny.

“Hey, hey, don’t judge me. Wouldn’t you want to live again too?” His chuckle is weak, dying before it makes it out of his throat.

I don’t answer. At least now I know exactly what he wants. 

But I can only think of one person powerful enough to do something about Lucio’s bizarre condition. And it isn’t me.

“Asra.” I come to the realization.

“Huh?” Lucio’s eyes grow twice their size, heat behind them glowing hotter.

“My master. He’s a very capable magician.”

“Oh, yeah. Asra. You know, he and I go way back.” Lucio changes his tune instantly into something more nonchalant, “I bet he’d jump at the chance to help me out. For old times’ sake.”

I say nothing. Asra was working for the Palace during the plague outbreak...but he never talks about that time.

“So where is Asra?”

I play with the emerald around my neck, “Travelling, I don’t know where. Even if I contact him, I think he’d need to be here in person to really be able to address the situation.” 

Lucio continues to question, “And I don’t suppose you know when he’ll be back?”

I shake my head. Lucio takes a seat on the edge of the fountain, folding his arms and legs, lips curled in an impatient pout, a look I am getting familiar with.

“Ugh, that’s just like Asra, disappearing when I need him.”

“In the meantime, I need to talk to Nadia.”

Lucio seems confused, “What? Why?”

I stare at him. Surely that’s obvious? “You just told me that Doctor Devorak didn’t kill you. Nadia can’t execute an innocent man!”

Lucio actually laughs, as if I’ve just told some outlandish joke. “Of course she can. She’s in charge. She can do _whatever she wants_.” 

“Nadia wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t execute an innocent man.” However, his words make me wonder if he can.

Lucio gives me an almost pitying look, “That’s nice of you to say, but sometimes Vesuvia needs a reminder of who’s on top.” He grins, white teeth showing and for a moment I’m reminded of how sharp they looked before, “I knew that. Nadia does too. But if it bothers you that much, go talk to her. I’ll just be here, enjoying the show.”

“Oh, no. you’re coming with me to talk to Nadia.” I put both hands on my hips and narrow my eyes at him, “You’re...well I suppose you’re a witness.”  
  
“Seriously?!” Ah, there’s that pouting again.

“I can’t just tell her all this without any proof!”

Lucio sighs, rolls his eyes, and slowly drags himself up the fountain, “Fine. At least you made me presentable again.” With how dramatic he is being, I fully expect him to pretend to half-swoon.

“You’re welcome.”

~

As we creep out of the garden, I keep expecting someone to notice Lucio drifting ghostly alongside me, but the servants just go about their usual business with barely a glance at us. Nonetheless, I find my eyes following everyone that passes by, wondering if they could see him and just weren’t saying anything. A dumb thought, since if they could, they’d probably be fleeing in a panic, but still. The chamberlain’s fussing with a lamp, adjusting the ornate shade on my left.

“Heh heh heh...I should prank the chamberlain. Never liked their stupid hat.” Lucio snickers and fades into the wall, reaching for the magnificent feather lodged into a fanciful hat atop the chamberlain’s head.

I keep walking, watching Lucio out of the corner of my eye, careful not to give anything away by staring. Lucio throws me a conspiratorial wink from out of the wall, “Let’s see...that feather would look better on me!”

He plucks the brilliant red plume from the chamberlain’s hat, making it significantly more gaudy as there is no longer anything to balance out the garish royal purple. Giggling furiously, he whooshes over the chamberlain, tickling them with their own feather.

“What the- aaa- ACHOO!” The defeathered chamberlain’s explosive sneeze echoes up and down the hallway, drawing everyone’s attention. Their eyes meet mine, flushing furiously, “Erm...allergies. Yes. Of course, this place is drafty and I’m allergic to a...a good breeze!” Quite ruffled and red as a beet, they make their hurried escape whilst trying to look as dignified as still possible. 

Lucio drifts back to me, feather in hand, “You know, I thought this thing would look better on me.” He holds the feather up to his own face, deep in thought, deepest I’ve seen so far, “But on second thought, it looks pretty good on you too.” 

He tucks the feather behind my ear, where it clashes horribly with the rest of my clothes. A flashy red against the already ostentatious assemble I had been gifted.

“Magnificent! Shall we?” Lucio holds his hands up in a picture frame pose, seeming to be either admiring the view or making fun of me. I’m not sure which.

We continue onwards, reaching the veranda, where we find Nadia having a midnight tea. She’s seated across from someone very familiar, both sipping little cups of piping hot tea, the steam curling out from each cup into the night air. 

“Hi! Did you miss me?” Asra sits with his legs crossed over one another, a kind smile on his face.

“Ah, Magician, excellent timing! I was just about to send for you.” Nadia’s eyes soften at the sight of me, shoulders relaxing as she pats the seat next to her, ushering me to sit.

Asra sets down his teacup and stands to hug me, but freezes as soon as he touches me, staring over my shoulder with a stunned look. Magic surges through his aura, and he throws out his hand in a warding gesture, “Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” 

Nadia is on her feet instantly, pulling her shawl up from her waist to cover her arms to wrap them around herself, “Asra, why this alarm? I told you, the Magician is assisting me with-”

“Not them. _Him_.” Asra’s eyes narrow, his lips curl into a snarl, and I swear I’ve never seen him this hostile. He jabs a finger over my shoulder, right at Lucio, who looks shocked, but still manages to compose himself into his signature pompous expression.

“What? Me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be the most similar to the original work, with my quotes being lifted directly from the visual novel. However, this will probably be the greatest extent of similarity in a chapter to the original work, as after this, the next chapter will already have some scene changes. And these changes will only grow.
> 
> While writing this and replaying the story, I realise that Lucio, for as little credit he gets, is characterized to be extremely haughty and showy, but also caring and shows some degree of perceptiveness. This is why this chapter remains mostly unchanged. The character I am trying to portray is present in this, though sadly this is one of the few rare times.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading the first of hopefully what will be many chapters to come. Don't forget to leave comments on what you liked, or didn't like! All comments have to be moderated (to prevent trolls and to not reveal usernames if they are given to me for feedback), so rest assured I will read every single one.


	3. VII - The Chariot

###  **VII - The Chariot**

“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.”  
― Shaun Hick

“This is the worst, absolute lowest moment of my life.” I smile sympathetically at Lucio as he skulks around Asra and I, still his ghostly self. The man had tried to take a bite out of my cake while I was deep in thought, failing miserably as he realised he could touch, but not consume. Now he was pouting, glaring at the offending bun intensely, “It’s _taunting_ me!” 

I decide to take a large bite, stuffing the rest of my snack into my mouth and chewing slowly, “And now you don’t have to look at it.” My voice comes out muffled but the message gets across. Lucio softens his look only for a brief moment before walking ahead, strutting about as if he owned the place. 

“Anyways, as I was saying, what are your plans now?” Asra brings my attention back to our conversation, “You can’t have him bound to you like this forever.” He waves his mint green cake in the air slightly for some emphasis at ‘forever’, and then proceeds to take a bite whilst making direct eye contact with Lucio, prompting a sneer out of him.

Needless to say, he’s right. It simply isn’t healthy for a wayward spirit to be bound to a living, breathing human. We’ve all heard the stories; hauntings that end in possession, spirits losing themselves to the more powerful soul they’re connected to, a loss of all individuality in both. The blending of souls never ends well. Even in the most ideal of situations where the souls match perfectly, the drainage of the host’s magical energy to sustain the spirit could end in fatality for both parties.

“I’m not sure. I was hoping we could bring him back to life, it’d be cruel to do otherwise.” Leaving him in this state would be worse than death itself. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be both here and not, so close yet so far.

Asra places a gentle hand on my shoulder, his voice as soothing as always, “I’m so sorry for leaving you by yourself, this would never have happened otherwise.”

“Why _did_ you leave? What was so important that you had to leave so suddenly?” Not to mention that odd place I saw him in, swirling stars overhead and magic in the air. Where did he venture off to this time?

He doesn’t give me a proper answer, but starts rubbing a small circle into my back, “It’s not important anymore. Not as important as helping you.” Cryptic, though I’m not sure what other response I expected. Either way, I’m glad to have him by my side. Brainstorming a way to rectify Lucio’s...state, is something that will require as many minds to be put together as possible. 

After informing Nadia of the situation, she had immediately declared that a headache had so kindly decided to grace her and retired to her chambers, stating that she would need the time to process the information. With the Countess out of commission, Lucio had insisted on going outside to walk the streets of Vesuvia, wanting to see his city. This of course meant that I had to accompany him. Asra decided to tag along too, just to ensure nothing out of the ordinary occurs.

Our first stop is the streets of the Floating Market, closest to the Palace. Although renowned for its array of luxury stores that dot every corner, it’s currently deserted, too late into the night for any shops to be open. Fortunately, this does mean that there isn’t a single person around to eavesdrop. Perfect for a midnight stroll of two magicians with a ghost in tow.

Lucio watches our interactions out of the corner of his eye, scoffing as he is forced to listen, unable to grow the distance between us. He flits from place to place, taking in the sights whilst trying his best to ignore the identifiable closeness in our conversation and Asra’s staring, that’s aimed directly at the back of his head.

“I’m unsure if we should help him, if I’m being honest.” His eyes narrow and suddenly his gaze is sharper, throwing daggers into the Count’s back, “We bring him back to life, and then what? He becomes an ignorant Count again? You know these streets and people as well as I do, they aren’t happy with the current state of affairs. Affairs that _he_ left behind.” 

There’s a sudden, uncomfortable tension in the air, thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. Asra seems a tad smug, feeling the satisfaction of a well-said line. In direct contrast, while I can’t make out Lucio’s face, it doesn’t take a psychic to see the silent anger radiating off of him. His stance is stiff, his hands forming half-fists. For a second I fear Asra might get decked to the floor, but the seconds tick by awkwardly without anything happening.

Lucio clears his throat to break the silence, “In any case, if the two of you are quite done, there’s a more pressing matter to attend to than just simply my fate.”

I look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ that Vesuvia needs saving! Then again, since only _I_ can save it, I guess my fate should be prioritized.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture that points to the whole street, then glances up and down the nearest building and shudders, “At the rate it’s going, my beautiful city won’t even be fit to rule! Look at those crumbling cobblestones, the paint peeling off the walls! It’s a disgrace.”

Asra laughs, bitter and condescending. It rings in my ears. “You think that only you can ‘fix’ Vesuvia? Don’t kid yourself, Count. You were part of the problem that _plagued_ the city.” He then smiles to himself like he’s made some sort of joke. Lucio clams up instantly, though I’m unsure if it’s out of shame or embarrassment, his ghostly form doesn’t really allow him to blush.

I have never seen Asra this petty, this malicious with his words. Do they have history? I keep my thoughts to myself, he always tells me things in due time. I trust him to.

We’re approaching the infamous Red Street now, mostly abandoned after the plague, due to the moniker being so similar to the name of that which killed thousands. Our walk through it is quiet, no one quite knowing what to say next. 

I take the time to think, ponder Asra’s question; what _am_ I going to do now? Lucio needs to be brought back to life, but for that...wouldn’t he need a body of sorts? Some vessel he can control on his own. But that has to be impossible, right? Bringing someone back to life?

“What do you think about this, Asra?” I turn to him, aware that my brows are furrowed as my mind tries to wrap around the concept, “Could someone bring another back to life? Create a body for them? Some advanced form of alteration magic?”

“I uh...um…” All of a sudden, he’s at a loss for words, stumbling over his next words, “That’s an...interesting question…”

“Of course it’s possible!” Lucio blusters, bravado returning as he finds himself finally able to contribute to the topic at hand, “Asra knows how! He helped me the last time!.”

My eyes widen on their own, “What?!” I look with bewilderment between Asra and Lucio, the former looking just as stunned as I am. “You did _what_ now?”

“I tried to give myself another body, duh. Didn’t work. Pretty sure it’s why I’m like this actually.” He taps the edge of his chin with his finger and throws me a wink, the kind someone who thinks themselves cute would throw your way to charm you, “But you certainly can figure something else out, you got me out of my former dusty prison once, why not a ghostly one?”

“Lucio. What did you do?” I try to ask nicely, my frustrations threatening to get the better of me.

He groans, irritated that I have to ask, “I tried to replace my body when it was dying. If you must know the details, I had to have some fancy ritual thing, summon a body, yada yada, drank some of my blood, which oddly enough, tasted like pomegranate juice. Guess I’m as delicious on the inside as on the outside.” He winks again, but at Asra, who seems to bristle at this, “Though it isn’t my favourite house pour, if I’m being honest.”

I feel a headache coming on, mind unable to comprehend how casual he’s able to be, “And what happened after? Why do you think it’s the reason you’re stuck like this?” 

“Well, I caught fire soon after. Not to mention it _clearly_ didn’t work, I mean, I still died. So being the only weird magic thing I’ve done, it should be pretty obvious that it’s the cause, right?” He states it like it’s self-evident, “But why are you asking me? Ask Asra! He was there too!”

Asra rouses himself enough to throw Lucio a glare, but can’t keep it up when he faces me, “I barely remember anything from the Masquerade.” He states plainly, “And I definitely have no memory of this ‘ritual’.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?!” I target my question at Lucio, furious that he would lead me on this long while simultaneously keeping me in the dark. I make a mental note to deal with Asra’s claim of memory loss later.

“It wasn’t relevant then.”

“Wasn’t- what?! This is highly relevant to your situation! You...you giant man-baby!”

He’s incredibly offended, gasping at my insult with his hand dramatically on his chest, “How dare you! I am Count Lucio! An accomplished warrior! And a talented ruler to boot! Yet you still insult me?!” 

We’re on the verge of having a shouting match in the middle of the night, out in the open. Though no one can actually see and hear Lucio besides Asra and I. My blood boils; every second that has been dedicated to helping this sorry soul has been met with hostility and secrets. Why couldn’t he just lay everything out in the open? Can’t he see we’re only trying to help?

“What’s the point of having so many feats under your belt if you can’t even let others help you?!” I barely keep the urge to yell at him in, my arguments coming through gritted teeth, “You make me regret tethering you to me.”

“Well you aren’t exactly the best soul-mate either, so don’t start clapping yourself on the back just yet. I always knew you were a goodie-two-shoes, but I didn’t know it was this bad!”

I blink, “You ‘always knew’?”

He looks like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, trying to offer me a stiff smile, “Wait! That’s not what I meant, I mean-- you’re so obviously nice, you know? So when I say ‘always knew’ it’s more that I knew since the moment I met you. Given that we’ve only known each other for a day maybe my choice of words is a little poor, see-” 

“We both know that’s not what you mean.” I fold my arms, glaring at him intensely. If looks could kill, I’m sure mine would disintegrate him on the spot.

We’ve stopped walking at this point, reaching the end of the street that overlooks the large canal separating the Heart District and the Town Square. 

A second passes before he hangs his head and sighs, “Fine. I’ve spied on you in your little shop before. The moment you came into contact with this guy.” He points at Asra, who rubs the back of his neck nervously, “All your helping of people, trying to cure the sick when the plague hit at your own expense? You were too nice, _Apprentice_.” He says the word as if it’s a dirty description that didn’t do me justice.

“The plague? I wasn’t here during the plague. At least...I don’t think so. Was I?” I think back, pressing my fingers to my temples as I try to recall. 

“Wait! Don’t-” Asra exclaims, snapping to attention.

 ~~~~~~“I think they’re still watching us, not like it’ll actually amount to anything.” Asra peeks out the window, drawing the curtain back slightly, but not enough to alert them, “I’m sorry I brought you into this mess. I was actually thinking about leaving the city, what with all that’s going on.”~~  
  
 ~~“We can’t leave. There are too many dying and we can help!”~~

~~“Don’t be foolish, you want to risk catching the plague? We can go somewhere safe, somewhere far from here. I’ve already got a place for us.”~~

~~I plead with him, “Asra, I want to help them.”~~

A sharp pain jolts my head, and I find myself squeezing my eyes shut, taking a step backwards, wanting to get away from the feeling. The agony is familiar, somehow. Without warning, I find myself unable to find the ground beneath my feet, and the world begins to spin.

I feel Asra rush to grab hold me just a second too late, his hands fail to grasp mine and I slip through, horror written all over his features. My clothes flutter as the night air blows against me. 

The water rushes up to greet me, enveloping me in icy cold, blurring my vision. I can’t quite make out what Asra and Lucio are shouting at me, but I see one desperately reaching out to try to grab my hand. The other, pulled like a marionette on a string, jerks forward and joins me below.

A panic-stricken Lucio flails around but doesn’t even stir the water surface as he takes the plunge. He comes closer and wraps his arms around me, barely slowing my downwards descent in his incorporeal form, his arms trying to hold me up in a bridal carry desperately. 

Just before my eyes close, I don’t see his lips move, yet I can still vaguely hear in my head, ‘Stay with me! Please don’t leave me alone again....’ 

My eyelids struggle to fight the pounding in my head, to keep awake despite it all. Memories, or at least what I think are memories, are buzzing around inside my head like a layer of white noise that rings incessantly in my ear. They threaten to lull me to sleep but I force myself to focus on the figure in white with me, to concentrate all my thoughts on keeping my eyes open and trained on him. It takes great effort, but I’m somehow doing it.

‘Swim! You have to swim, damn you!’ I can’t hear Lucio but somehow...can…? Panic closes my throat and I stop breathing in the water, choking when I realise just how little precious air I have left. I can’t see a thing down here, the canals have always been murky and the lack of daytime light does not help. Accompanied with the force of the depths threatening to burst my ears wide open, it becomes harder to stay awake.

This doesn’t stop Lucio from switching from pushing me upwards to pulling, tugging on my clothes in a futile attempt to pull me along with him. ‘Please be okay, please be okay, please-’ his thoughts echo in my mind like a mantra, refusing to let me rest.

I take hold of his hand, the same electric shock I felt before in the gardens travelling through my veins to wake me from my almost slumber right away. He feels it too, relief crossing his face, ‘You’re alive! Thank Vlagnagog!’ The last word sounds like some god’s name, the way he uses it, though it’s not one I’ve heard before.

With a burst of renewed energy, I fight my screaming lungs and use Lucio as leverage to swim upwards, the man somehow defying all laws of physics as a ghost. I kick back the water with all my might, unsure if we are even progressing forward.

Just as I feel my strength waning, there’s a large ‘pop!’ sound, and I hit a hard surface, pain blossoming at the back of my head from the collision. Asra stands poised with his hands outstretched, collapsing once I hit the floor into a panting heap. He must’ve brought us out of the water, capturing us in some sort of watery sphere and dragging it to the surface. Not an easy feat.

I clutch myself and shiver, teeth chattering as I try to inhale deep breaths and flounder in the puddle of canal water around me. The night air easily reaches me through the thin silken fabrics I had been gifted. Nadia was _not_ going to be happy.

“Are you alright?” Lucio hovers above me, with an expression I can’t quite decipher. I open my mouth to respond, but only sea water spills out.

Hazily aware of my eyes closing from sheer exhaustion, I register that the pain in my head is now too much to bear. The danger was over, and now my body craved rest. Bitter night air be damned, I find a way to pass out and drift off into sleep.

#### ~

The halls are quiet, the fires have burned themselves down to a simmer. Finally, everybody has gone to sleep, drunk on festivities. 

I disentangle myself from my snoring tribesmen and look for signs of life. Not even a twitch...they’re out cold. Big surprise. The whole clan has been partying for days in anticipation of this blessed eve. 

The night of my eighteenth birthday. It’s bittersweet really, after all, I won’t be their precious little Prince Monty anymore; I’m going to be a man. A man who does what he needs, to get what he wants. Starting tonight.

Stealthily, I edge my way through the banquet, out and into the musky hall. Sneaking alongside the wall, a sliver of moonlight illuminates the passing tapestries. Moth-eaten rags telling a story I’ve heard a million times. The tale of our tribe, the so-called Scourge of the South. 

Horses, wolves, bears, all kinds of noble creatures once represented our neighbours, but they all crumbled under the swarm. That’s us, a plague of voracious beetles, leaving nothing but bare bones in our wake.

Unbidden, an old conversation with my father floats to the forefront of my mind.

 _‘Papa, why are we beetles? I don’t like them, I wanna be something else!”_ I barely reached his knee back then, one of the smallest amongst the rest of the younglings. 

_‘Something else, huh?’_ The old man chuckled heartily from his belly and ruffled my hair with a hand the size of my head, _‘Who said you need to like them? What good is it to be liked? Some of those other clans will spend all their time trying to make nice with each other. And for what?”_

He picked me up without any effort at all and plopped me onto his lap, making me look into his serious expression, _‘Life’s not about being loved or hated, Monty. It’s about being fed.’_

Or eaten. Those words rung with truth. Then, and even now.

The old man in question is passed out by the hearth, mumbling in his sleep. I shake my head and turn away, slinking further down the hall. One more room I need to pass before I reach the door... My heart hammers in my chest as I approach yet another tapestry.

From a mound of beastly corpses, a human figure is born to the swarm. Their ruthless bloodlust is in her veins. She knows no mercy. She tracks a bleeding enemy over six and two thirds of mountain range, until they can run no further.

My mother, head of the clan. My dad is just in it for the meat, for his next meal. But she's a _true_ hunter. In it for the kill.

Her towering door is open just a crack, and I hold my breath as I cross its path. I can make out her resting shadow, cross-legged in her biggest chair in the corner amongst her possessions. With every breath she takes, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. 

I wish it didn’t need to be this way, but after the conversation we had tonight…

It was during the festivities, I was still a bright-eyed, cherry-cheeked drunkard, giddy for my ascent to manhood. I had asked Ma about the plan for tomorrow, if it was to be a ceremony or some other fancy set-up for my coming of age. Her response though, was unexpected and sobered me up instantly.

_‘Look, kid, if I thought you deserved a crown, it wouldn’t be because you lasted eighteen years outside the womb. You will get nothing after tomorrow. From now on, you fend for yourself.’_

I was, certainly, taken aback, only able to mutter out ‘I see…’ at the time, but the wheels in my head were already turning, generating my new plan of attack.

She could’ve raised her greatest ally, but now, she had just assured her destruction.

The shadow's shoulders twitch, and I tear away from the door, flattening myself against the tapestry. When my pulse is no longer fluttering, I slide along the wall to the entrance to the wide open doors of the mead hall. There’s no guard, as expected.

I step into the moonlight, birthday adrenaline pumping throughout my body. Since the day I was born, I was meant to lead this horde of miscreants. It’s my time to shine. 

Even I know that I’ll need to prove myself, though. To show them that I am not someone to be trifled with anymore. And to accomplish just that...I’ll need to make a friend tonight, out there, in the woods.

As I navigate the overgrown path, with only the cool rays of the moon to illuminate my route, I find myself ignoring all the warning signs along the way. Ridiculous bones charms and effigies, meant to scare away evil and ward off those that are foolish enough to come here, litter the forest. As if anyone, let alone the thing that calls this place home, is going to get scared by a couple of human remains.

Deeper in, the tree trunks are covered in some slimy substance, glistening in the night's light, with various leaves and twigs stuck to them. In one, a young bird struggles to break free from the gluey substance, chirping incessantly at me. 

With a sigh, I pull out my hunting knife and move to cut it loose, but it only struggles more as I approach out of fear. 

“Stay still you little- Ah!” I gasp as my knife misses its mark thanks to the constant movement, cutting slightly into the bird’s left wing. A trickle of blood spills out of the open wound, and the bird begins to trill even louder, looking up to the sky, all the while still trying to fly free. 

“Damned bird.” I curse under my breath before making a second attempt, this time succeeding in cutting away the gunk that holds the bird captive. It tweets happily when it finds itself able to move once more, hopping out onto my outstretched palm to observe my actions curiously. 

I smile, though that doesn’t last long. Something slimy moves at lightning speed under my feet, ground shaking as it displaces the frigid soil. Losing my balance, I fall onto my backside, knocking the bird out of my hand and into the air, where it is snatched up in an instant. 

A pale figure stretches up out of the earth, a hideous wyrm with a hideous man’s face. He chews on the bird, maw opened so I could have a full view of the broken and bloodied mess inside. His eyes open slowly, like a newborn mole.

“Vlagnagog…” I whisper, a horripilation of dread tingling down me, head to toe.

The serpent of destruction, as foretold by our ancestors, worshipped since the formation of the clan. As much as we fear him, we revere this foul creature. I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but it wasn’t like this.

“I-it’s an honor to meet you, my lord. I am Montag, son of Morga and Lutz. I’m sure you know them as they are ever so faithful in their prayers to you, Vlagnagog.”

The creature speaks, “Vlagnagog? I’m afraid you have the wrong wyrm, boy.”

“What do you mean the wrong wyrm?”

“The serpent of destruction you seek is dead. Shrivelled ages ago. Don’t your people ever put an ear to the dirt? I am not he, I am the worm of pestilence.”

“Pestilence…?”

“Yes. The one you seek did live here once. Fat and resplendent on the tribute of your clan, but your people are greedy, you want it all. When was the last time you sacrificed to him?” The wyrm extends to his fullest height, towering over me easily, “Empty words do not fill our bellies. I will not be so easily wooed as he was.”

The wheels in my head turn quickly, calibrating my chances of success. My plan was to bargain for my parents’ destruction, but if I play my cards right… this could work too. 

The worm arches up over my head, eyeing me with scrutiny, “Why are you here, Montag, son of Morga and Lutz?”

I summon up my courage, “Because you need my help. Trust me.”

It tilts its head at me, but continues it into a full circle before slithering up to me, “How do you suppose?”

“Well, you need to eat, right? You seem like the type that likes…” I think about the bird, gobbled up the moment it shed a drop and how viciously it was consumed, “Meat.”

Now I have its attention, as it licks its lips, or whatever that rim is, and bares the rows of pointy teeth it has.

“I’m known as the type to spill blood, and where there’s blood, there’s meat. A powerful being such as yourself, a worm of pestilence, should stand to benefit from nothing less.” I put on my award-winning grin, “I’d love to get my parents sick. Lend me your power, and you shall have meat. The best of the best.”

“Interesting...perhaps we could come to an arrangement, Montag, son of Morga and Lutz.” the worm pulls away from me and cranes its neck, “But know this. If you want _my_ help…”

There’s a rumble in the ground. The worm loops around me and I struggle to keep the whine of fear down my throat, “I’ll need something of _yours_.”

“S-something of mine, huh? How about...something of my parents? I’m not very attached to them, you see. I want them gone, and if you help me...I’ll give you their hearts.” 

“Your _parents’_ hearts? I suppose they are yours enough.” The worm raises his head and squints into the moonlight, glassy eyes unfocused. His milky pupils swell. “Yes, yes...I smell them. Their bond to you is awfully strong…Their hearts beat with life...My mouth waters indeed. But I cannot kill them, I can only make them weak.”

“Perfect. You do that, and I’ll take care of the killing part. So, do we have a deal?” I try to hold my ground, to ignore that it has me lifted off of it.

“Deal.”

Fleshy coils close in around me, sliding over my body as I hold myself still. They’re not doing any harm but hell, they’re uncomfortable. As the worm’s tendrils flick back and forth across my limbs, I can feel my body grow lighter, stronger even.

“Montag, son of Morga and Lutz. For the duration of your birthday, you will carry my blessing, all you touch will succumb to disease.”

“Perfect. I won’t let you down.” I turn my hands and get a good look. Both sides seem to be coated with an almost unnoticeable shiny sheen of milky white. 

“We shall see. Until you pay up, we will certainly not be free of each other.” 

“Well, don’t come to me, I’ll come to you, okay? I’m not about to run.” I try to lighten the atmosphere, mostly for my sake. 

The worm laughs, or what only mimics a laugh. It’s shrill, like metal scraping stone, “Run? You’ve never made a deal like this before, have you?”

He releases me fully, and I feel a power course through me and hit my core. My vision goes dark.

“You can run wherever you like. It will follow...no matter where you go.” I’m dropped like a ragdoll to the steaming ground and immediately lose consciousness.

When I come to, my hair smells of smoke but otherwise I feel as good as new. It’s day break, and knowing that my clan will begin to stir, I make my way back to the mead hall. I feel invincible.

“Where have you been?” 

All that invincibility melts away in a second, the moment I hear her voice, “M-m-m-mama!”

Where the hell did she come from?? She emerges from the narrow trees, brow low and suspicious.

“Woah, woah, what’s with the suspicion, Ma? I got up early, took a walk.” I keep my cool, remembering that now, it is I who has the power.

“You’ve never gotten up early in your life.” She keeps that stone cold expression of her’s.

“Well,” I generate an excuse easily, confidently, “it’s my birthday. I’m turning over a new leaf. And for that matter…I am eighteen now. I’m a grown man, and I don’t answer to you anymore.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at me in distaste, “Grown? You? I’ll believe it when I see it. All I see is a guilty child trying to run a distraction on me.”

“Hey, I’m not a child anymore, can we agree on that? I mean, it _is_ my most significant birthday arguably ever-” I’m cut off by a dismissive hand wave.

“So you’re eighteen. Eighteen times, the world has revolved around the sun. And you still think it revolves around you. You haven’t matured at all.” She tips her spear in my direction, and the lump in my throat grows, “That’s why you’re still a child. You know you’d never make it on your own.”

My distraction is working. I need to keep it coming, time to throw in some Lucio charm.

“Yes I would.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me, “Did you say something?”

“I said I would, Ma. I would make it on my own.”

Mama sighs, resigned, like she’s talking to someone who can’t be reasoned with, “Oh, do you now? That’s good to hear. Maybe there’s _some_ hope for you.”

Her eyes narrow and she looks me up and down, within each colourless iris, her pupils focus on me with a clarity I can never escape, “Or maybe I let you get away with too much. You think you’re pretty clever, huh? Now...what were you doing in the woods?”

“Taking a walk. Like I said.”

“Fine. Keep lying, even though you can’t lie to me. I’m your mother. Till the day I die...I’ll always know.”

I manage to keep my knees from knocking together. I’m terrified, but deep down...elated. That day is finally coming. It doesn’t matter if she knows or not, there’s nothing she can do.

“Okay, you got me. I was just out here looking for some...worms.” For a moment, under her piercing gaze, my nerve wavers, but I steel myself and look right back at her.

“Worms?”

"Yeah, yeah for fishing! I’m fending for myself now, right? I thought we might all go together, spend some time on the river with you and dad!”

Speaking of my other parent, he comes stumbling through the brush just in time. “Look who it is! What were you doing in the woods? Were you lost?”

He claps a weighty hand against my back. For a moment he goes still, and I wonder if he feels it. But no. Only I can see the white layer of sickness that surrounds me.

“Just lost in thought, Pa. This birthday’s got me feeling sentimental.” I open my arms up wide, “Papa, Mama, come here…Let me embrace you.”

A day later, and by the time I make my intentions known, my father is already bedridden.

_“You want to fight? Now? To the death? I’m surprised you have it in you. I’m proud that you’ve finally got the guts.”_

But he shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t even proud of how I struck him down mercilessly, driving my blade into his chest, and how he smiled when I did. He really shouldn’t have been proud, but for the first time in my life, I knew he was.

Conflicting emotions circled inside me as I flicked the blood off my sword, but the winner was pure ecstasy. 

But then another day passes, and another. And _she_ stays standing...she never lets me out of her sight. Especially now, as she glowers from across the clearing and I quake in my new goatskin boots.

"You shouldn’t be out here, Mama. You should be in bed.” I try to coax.

Her irritation can be felt in the air, “For nine months I was sick with you, you ungrateful grub. Compared to that seasonless misery, this is a summer cold.”

Since my fight with Pa, she hasn’t rested. She’s barely blinked. The disease should’ve taken hold already… But somehow, every jab she takes at me, her strength is steadily returning.

“I wondered how you would take this birthday. Should’ve known you would do something like this.” Her mouth forms an animalistic growl, “You rotten little brat. We were always too easy on you. Even in battle, I never let you get hurt. Now look at you. You don’t even know what it means to fight for your life.”

“I don’t...don’t want to see you hurt either, Ma. I’m your son!”

“You were his son too, and yet you took his heart.” I always knew that their marriage was one of convenience, the two strongest coming together to produce a strong heir. But now, hearing her words, it’s obvious that she cared not for the man. She’s more disappointed that I killed a man in an unfair fight, than the fact that I killed my father.

Morga kicks me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me as I hit the ground. Before I can even get my bearings, her spear is over my neck. Poised at my jugular.

“Are you...are you really gonna kill me, Mama?”

“No,” She moves the tip away from me, but still close enough that she could strike if she felt the fancy to, “I’m going to spoil you one last time.”

Her spear plunges into the dirt next to my head, missing it by mere strands of hair, and closes her eyes. I don’t dare move.

“I’m giving you a head start, Monty. You better run for your life.”

Face burning with shame, I let the axe fall from my sweaty palms and scramble to my feet. I do as she says. I run like I’ve never had in my life. I don’t look back, and I don’t stop running..

...Until I feel something prickling at the back of my neck. With a wince and exclamation, I tear the culprit away from my skin in an adrenaline fueled panic, tearing off some unfortunate hairs in the process. 

It’s a beetle. Bright red, squirming vivaciously in my hand. I stare at it in fascination. The colour is hypnotic. When I squeeze it in my hand, it bursts like a bubble. An explosion of fine, red powder all over me, luminous in the dark forest I’m traversing.

“What the hell…?” Despite my curiosity, I don’t have the time to sit around and wonder. I swipe away the dust from my clothes and keep running. 

I can’t hear anything else over my wheezing, gasping breaths that come out in puffs of smoke. Especially not the thin voice that might as well be my imagination.

‘ _It will follow...no matter where you go.’_

#### ~

I wake with a start, covered in sweat with the blankets piled around me messily. Fear grips my heart with an iron grasp, though it feels foreign. There’s adrenaline still pumping in my veins, telling me that I need to run even further, but I shake off those thoughts. They don’t seem to be my own.

“You alright there?” Lucio pops up next to me, too close for comfort. I feel my heart do a backflip before I realise it’s him. With a groan, I fall back into the comforts of my bed to let my pulse stabilize.

“Don’t do that! You scared me.” I swat him in the face, but it goes through. He sends a deadpan expression my way, eyebrows raised as if to say ‘Really?’ 

I pull away my hand, and turn to face the window, ignoring him in favour of the view of the gently lapping waves coming in from the sea. The waterways are so peaceful at night… 

Wait. 

Falling into the canal, Asra’s rescue, something...fuzzy and blocked behind a wall, my mind reels as it recalls every detail. Worry bubbles in my stomach, where is Asra? Did he bring me back here? But the Palace was so close by...why back home?

“Hey!” Lucio tries to get my attention again, tapping on my shoulder impatiently, “If you’re alright, I have to go inform your lover boy.” 

“Lover-?!” I sputter at the nickname, heat blossoming across my cheeks, “Asra and I are not like that.” 

“And yet you knew I was referring to him.” Nothing gets by him. He looks as smug as ever, now that he gets to tease me. A far cry from the boy quaking in his boots at the sight of his mother. Never once did I see my reflection, nor did anyone call me ‘Lucio’. Nevertheless, something tells me that I was him, seeing what he once did. I want to mention it, but where does one even begin? ‘Oh hey I slept and saw your memories but I was dreaming and it was cool’?

His ghost floats to the door and slips right through the wood. Behind it, I hear hushed whispers, Asra’s voice… then someone else’s. I crane my neck to try to get a better look, but the door swings open and in walks a man dressed head to toe in black, a mop of red being the only other colour on him.

“How are you, my dear patient?” Julian strides into my room, “Say ahh!” 

“Wha-ahh?” He holds down my tongue with a wooden stick the moment I open my mouth, peering inside. He makes a pleased sound and removes it thereafter, cleaning the tool with a handkerchief. 

“No sores, surprising, considering the amount of water you expelled.” He now takes out a wooden tube from his coat, where there are all manner of medical tools attached. “Lift up your shirt please. Don’t worry, nothing I’ve never seen before.”

I follow his instructions and feel a soreness on my side. Lifting up my clothes, there seem to be fresh bandages binded all over my chest, “Why do I have medical bandages strapped to me?”

“That, would be on account of the fractured rib you have, sorry for that by the way, chest compressions worked a little too well. Though, they should be fine now aside from some slight bruising.” Julian flashes me a kind smile, and puts the end of the tube in the middle of my chest, listening with his ear pressed on the other end.

A broken rib? Fine? I poke my sides tentatively, expecting a sharp pain, but only feel a dull throb. He must be a really good doctor. No wonder Lucio hired him to be his private practitioner during the plague. 

“How did you get to be here, Doctor? Not that I don’t appreciate the treatment but you are a wanted man still, aren’t you? Did you have _another_ key?” 

He chuckles and keeps away the tube in the depths of his coat, “So many questions, but maybe I should let Asra answer them.” My eyes follow his gesture to the doorway, where Asra stands leaning against the frame. He looks worse for wear. Tired, but otherwise alright.

“Lucky for us, Julian keeps strange hours and even stranger habits. He was just passing by when he saw us, and helped me bring you back here. Couldn’t exactly go back to the Palace with the doctor in tow just yet, even if Nadia now knows he didn’t kill her husband, the news isn’t out.” Asra comes by my bedside, “But that doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

“Better than before.” I stretch slightly, working out the stiffness in my shoulders, “What happened to me, Asra?”

He chooses to observe the floor, unable to meet my gaze. 

“Asra?” I slide out of the covers and up next to him, “Why can’t you tell me?”

He resigns himself with a long sigh, inhaling deeply to ready himself, “I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore, they will come up eventually, now that you’re bonded to _him_.” A dirty look is thrown in Lucio’s direction, to which he responds by holding up his hands in a surrender pose, “I’d rather you learn the truth now, while I’m here to watch you.”

As if on cue, Julian takes his place beside Asra, standing at the end of the bed, “And that’s where Julian comes in. He’ll be there as I help you tap behind the wall that’s holding back your memories, to make sure nothing goes wrong with your physical body. I’ll help with the spiritual side.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” 

“Because, as much as I would prefer to just tell you what happened, it would be better for you to relive them instead. There’s less of a chance of things going wrong in the process. And there’s a lot you won’t understand unless you see it for yourself.”

I’m...confused, for lack of a better word. Things going wrong? Like at the canal? Why am I like this? I-

“Helloooo?” Lucio waves his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention, jerking me out of my thoughts, and the general seriousness of the room instantaneously dissipates, “You’re frowning too much.”

“What is it? Can’t you see that I’m thinking?” I find myself trying to whack him away, but my hands keep passing through the two red coals he has for eyes, “Wait, is it just me or are you more...ghostly?”

He does a twirl, watching his own firm trim ruffle in the air, then pauses, “Hmmmm…” He swipes a hand at Julian’s head, surprising the doctor and causing him to duck, but it goes straight through, barely ruffling his red curls.

“Hey! A little warning next time?” Julian pats his hair back into place, even though nothing had been disturbed. I half expect him to pull out a comb and begin to groom himself.

I try to grab Lucio’s hand for observation, but fail to make any contact as well, settling for hovering my hands around it as if he was some sort of fire I couldn’t touch. The man blushes and looks away, shy under my intense scrutiny.

“Your presence is definitely weaker than before... but why?” 

Asra speaks up, “Lucio is inexplicably linked to your magic, and your energy ties into that. When you fainted and tried to access your memories, you sapped your own energy to the point where you could no longer sustain Lucio’s form as much as before.” 

“Wait wait wait.” Lucio puts his hands up and stops Asra from continuing his explanation, “Does that mean that if this cutie over here is pumped up with magical energy, I could get my body back? Become solid?” He looks like a child about to receive gifts, enamoured with the idea of being slightly less incorporeal.

“...In theory, we _could_ give you a more physical form but I strongly advise against it. To forcefully produce that level of magical energy constantly, is a **deathwish**.” Asra seems slightly irritated again, plainly showing the distaste he has for Lucio with narrowed eyes.

Those words shut him down quickly, like a bucket of cold water had been dumped onto his head. He half-pouts, muttering under his breath, “Killjoy, I just really want to eat some food again.”

My stomach interrupts, growling angrily when it hears ‘food’. I quickly become very aware of my guts announcing their intention to cannibalize themselves if they do not receive sustenance post-haste. 

“Sorry, let me get you something to eat. Julian? I’ll need your help. I assume you still know your way about the kitchen?” Asra beckons Julian to the door and out of the room, giving Lucio one last warning glare before leaving the door ajar and heading in the direction of the stairs. 

As if I am some teenager that needs surveillance! With a flick of my fingers, I command the door to close behind them. It takes a bit more effort than usual, I realise, but the satisfaction is worth it.

“Woah! Teach me how to do that!” Lucio looks at me with awe, stunned by that tiny display of magic.

“Umm…” I eye his faint outline and scratch my head, “I’m not sure if ghosts can do magic…”

“Oh…” Once again, his hopes are dashed, and he makes a sullen expression, “Being a ghost isn’t very fun, is it? I can’t eat, sleep, or even breath! You can barely even see my beautiful face! And now I can’t do magic as well. It’s horrid, really.” He dramatically half-swoons onto the bed, provoking a small laugh out of me.

“Well… I suppose there is something I could teach you.” I reach over to my bag that’s just hanging at the end of the bed frame, fumbling around till my fingers come into contact with the smooth leather-bound casing of the tarot deck.

“This,” I take it out and take a seat on the cold wooden floor, “is the tarot deck I’ve borrowed from Asra. If you listen closely, you can hear and understand the voices of the cards.”

I lay out the deck and begin to cut it, letting my magic flow into the cards as I separate the deck into three equal parts. Breathing deeply, I let the cards call out to me, picking the stack that resonates. I then spread the cards out carefully, in the pretty pattern Asra taught. Lucio watches intently, following my hands as they move to place card after card.

“We’ll do something simple, how about asking the cards about the past, present, and future?” 

He nods, taking this very seriously, “We could definitely use some direction on our next plan of attack!”

“Then, you pick the cards.”

Slowly, he lets his hand linger over the cards, furrowing his brows in concentration as he tries to feel the magic emanating from them. His eyes even close, though for a brief moment before they open again, “It’s not working, I don’t feel anything!”

“Patience.” 

With a huff, Lucio returns back to focusing. Pointing at his first card, he proclaims, “This one!” I take it aside, and do the same when he points out another. For the last, he points to the one closest to him, but then retracts immediately, reconsidering and choosing a different one altogether.

I line up the three tarots in front of him, “Now, we look at each card. Every single one will mean something, or will at least try to speak to you. Try to listen out for their voices.”

I flip the first, the Eight of Swords, reversed. The slender draconic figure whispers to me, and I translate it for Lucio. “She’s warning us… what we think has been put behind hasn’t truly been conquered, that we’re still feeling the effects, even now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sits opposite me in a cross-legged pose, hands supporting his upper-half by leaning on the floor. 

“Well, it’s up to your own interpretation. This is your reading, only you will truly know what she is referring to. I am merely the messenger.” I flip the next card, ignoring the ominous feeling at the back of my head.

The Queen of Swords, reversed yet again. 

Lucio stares at the card in its position, gulping slightly, “And this one?”

“The Queen… well, she has great strength, but she’s saying that your goal right now is unattainable, that you are missing key pieces of the puzzle. To complete it, you must search yourself and those around you for the truth.” 

It feels as if the swords are grim today, resting heavily on my shoulders. Usually, readings are slightly vague, with the cryptic nature of the tarots and how foreign they are to us. Yet today, today they come with clear bad omens. Not only that, but I can hear them clearer than ever, as if my connection to the cards has been amplified tenfold. For once, understanding them is easy, and that scares me ever so slightly.

“The truth? Puzzle? I don’t understand any of this… do you?” Lucio forces a chuckle, trying to crack a smile, but I don’t respond.

There’s a veil that encapsulates the room, a sort of inky darkness pulsating from the final card. Whatever the message the tarot has in store, I am not sure if I’m prepared for it.

I turn the card before my nerves get the better of me, and therein lies the last card. Strength, with her crown of flowers and gentle smile, facing me, upside down from Lucio’s perspective.

Hearing her message, I pause before delivering it, trying to understand exactly what she means. This one doesn’t convey quite like a warning, and I have trouble putting it into words.

“Do you hear what I’m hearing?” Lucio questions, voice trembling slightly in fear and confusion.

“You can hear her?” Maybe as a ghost, Lucio has a deeper connection to the other realms? So many things we don’t know about his state, but if he can hear the cards… “Tell me what she says, Lucio.”

“She’s telling me that I am better than this, that I’ve lost touch with myself. That I… ” For a moment, he looks like a different person entirely. You can see the walls collapsing in on themselves, the false front crumbling away for a fraction of a second.

“That I couldn’t have controlled all that happened, and I must accept it. But now…” His sentence trails off, like he’s in thought. 

“Now…?” I try to press for an answer. He’s withholding information from me, but I can’t hear what Strength wants to say. She’s picked Lucio for that honor. The best I can do is try to coax her words out of him.

“Now, she’s done talking!” Lucio flashes me a smile, walls rapidly building back up, “Telling me that I can be better, though? Everyone knows that I’m always at the best anyone could possibly be!” 

“Lucio…” 

‘Anyways,” He makes a rush to stand, dusting off imaginary particles from his pants, “Thanks for the fascinating reading! My own personal fortune teller! What a privilege! Oh! I should go check on the food!” Before I can ask anything else, he floats upwards through the ceiling, where Asra and Julian are still cooking away. Clearly taking advantage of his enhanced ghostliness. 

I sigh, sweeping the cards towards me to tidy up. It seems that I won’t be getting anymore out of him tonight. Broaching the topic of the mysterious dream I saw is out of the questions as well, since I doubt he’d answer anything right now.

“Supper’s ready!” Lucio pops his head through the ceiling, hair staying in place in the absence of gravity acting on him, “Come upstairs!”

“I’ll be there in a moment.” I pick up the last card, stretching to reach it from my position. It’s the card that Lucio avoided picking. Curious, I turn it around.

Something stirs in me when I see it; a goatish figure surrounded by fire with chains binding that which is unseen. The Devil, in all his glory. 

For a moment, there is the slightest whisper from the card, and I am transfixed as it crescendos into a roar of overlapping voices, all fighting to tell me something. And then it comes to an abrupt halt. As suddenly as it came.

I shudder and try to shake all my thoughts away as the smell of freshly cooked food wafts through the air. Hurriedly, I get up and place the deck on the ornately designed dresser nearest to the door, trying to put what I saw in the back burner of my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I would like to thank my three new beta-readers/information gathers, for their help in writing this chapter. We were meant to get it out earlier, but the sheer amount of evidence and lore to sift through impeded our progress.
> 
> In this chapter, I went completely off the rails in terms of following the game. Except for Dawn of the Grub, which was more or less lifted, but with some important changes made to it to showcase character more. I hope that many of you will leave your feedback in the comments, as the flow of the story matters not if the readers do not agree with it. This is as much the community’s story as it is mine.
> 
> Onto the magic system we will be using in this story; I’ve not changed a single thing from the original, but have instead added on some much needed information and have sealed up all the plot holes (I hope). There will be mentions and some explanations within future chapters as to what sort of system this is, exactly, but if many want it, I will be happy to post a ‘lore’ document for all to read on the ‘enhanced’ system I’ve now put into place.
> 
> About the tarot itself, based on the official descriptions of the cards as well as the readings you get in the actual game, I have included the minor arcana, as well as added a place for them in the plot. They will appear later on in the story, and I have no doubts that it will serve as an interesting deviation from the original. Once again, please leave your feedback on whether or not you welcome this change.  
> Lastly, do know that I am writing this story with every single character’s storylines in mind. From Portia’s, to Nadia’s, to even Muriel’s. This is less a whole other dimension where you fall in love with Lucio rather than anyone else, and more a branch in a tree of choices where you decide to follow the goat-man. And I do plan on finding some way to include letting the community choose what ‘choices’ they want. Starting from the next chapter, I hope to be able to include two versions of the same chapter where you make a choice. Reversed or not, you will not know till I show the tally at the very end.
> 
> Till then, thank you for reading my work, and please check out my Tumblr. @paramnesiagirl if you wish to ask any questions about what my plans are, or what things I have changed within the story.


	4. VII - Strength

###  **VIII - Strength**

“What doesn’t kill you, makes you ugly.”  
― Break My Face, AJR

“Are you ready?” Once more, Asra looks at me with those caring lavender eyes of his, and I notice he stops himself just short of taking my hand. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I try to reassure him with a smile, but it seems to only worry him further, brows furrowing for an instant. 

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you.”

I’m lying down in a magical circle, surrounded by lit candles, each emitting the faint smell of incense. We’re about to begin the ritual that Asra says will help me recover my memories that had to be blocked out. Apprehension is in the air, bringing down everyone’s spirits as we embark on this risk. Lucio flits around above my head, floating against the ceiling with an unbothered expression. 

Though he’s not sure, Asra believes Lucio will accompany me into my dreamstate, even acting as a tether of sorts so that I don’t get lost inside my memories. The downside is that he’s unsure if there will be any other side effects, but hey, what’s life without a little risk? This needs to be done, no matter the cost. I’ve always felt as if there was a piece missing from me, the last part of the jigsaw, and now I know, and must retrieve it. 

Julian’s off the side, preparing some sort of medical device and some… are those leeches? He notices me, giving me a thumbs up, narrowly dropping the leech bottle for a second but catching it mid-air. That does not inspire confidence, but no matter, he can be a klutz as long as he does his job. He _seems_ to be a competent doctor at the very least. 

“Remember, you should be able to go through any major memories slowly till events reach present day.” Asra seats himself at the side of the circle, taking a deep breath before he begins to work his magic. I feel it, swirling all around the room before it coalesces into a thin blanketing over my body. Lucio’s form falters for an instant, startling both of us. He’s drawn towards me by an unknown force, causing him to panic slightly.

“Hey, uh, is this a part of it?” Squirming has no effect, leaving him to flail midair. Asra completely ignores him, proceeding on.

“Now, let’s begin.”

Sleepiness washes over me as I can faintly hear Julian counting down in the background, Asra’s magic forcing my mind to rest. I let myself be led by it, squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation. Of what, I do not know.

Hopefully, this’ll go well.

#### ~

I fall for an eternity, jostled by cold winds that bite through my clothes, before I hit an unexpectedly soft surface with an ‘oof!’. Upon opening my eyes I’m met with the glare of an afternoon sun, pelting me with intense heat in a cloudless sky. 

“Do you mind?” Lucio taps my side, steadfastly holding onto me. He must’ve broken my fall.

“Sorry!” I can’t remove myself from his stomach fast enough, heat creeping up the sides of my face on account of that embarrassing position as I stand to pat off some imaginary dust. “...Where are we?” 

We’re surrounded by a field that stretches on towards the horizon, with nothing but a quaint town and a couple of tents dotting the horizon, all about a few minutes walk away. I can make out the faint outlines of people going about their business despite the heat lines distorting my view. 

Lucio leaps to his feet, looking himself from arms to toes, grasping my hand in his, “Nevermind that! I can touch you!” 

He feels different from before. Solid, more alive and warm to the touch. For the first time I can see him clearly in all his glory, fair-skinned with a very expensive blonde comb-over. His clothes are a perfect replica of the set he dons in the painting I used for the ritual, a dark red suit with no shirt underneath complemented by a long fur trimmed, maroon cape. The whole outfit is brought together by contrasts of white and shiny gold in the form of a sash and an ostentatious display of golden chains. Now I am even able to notice the finer details of his golden arm that hums with magical energy. Even his eyes no longer contain the bright red shade of the plague, instead showcasing a lustrous shade of silver. 

“Lucio, you look completely different!” I point out the red fabrics he’s now wearing, “Your eyes aren’t even red anymore!” 

He looks at himself, surprised by this transformation. “I even have my sword!” True enough, a longsword hangs on his hip, resting in its finely crafted scabbard.

“Amazing!” With grace, he pulls the sword out silently to admire, “This sword and I have seen countless battles together, you should’ve seen me back in my glory days!” 

“So you’ve returned to your old appearance?” The world of memories is truly mystifying, I think as I do a quick check of my own clothes, only to find them unchanged. “But why back to this?” 

“Hell if I care!” Lucio sheathes back the sword, the biggest grin I’ve seen from him so far plastered over his face. 

He grabs me by the waist effortlessly, picking me up for a second and twirling us whilst hugging the life out of me. His laughter is infectious, prompting a chuckle or two out of me as well. We spin, giddy with joy, before he eventually brings us to a stop. 

There’s a pregnant pause, both becoming hyper aware of the lack of distance between us. Despite the heat and apparent lack of wind, neither of us seem to be affected by the elements. Even so, I spy a few out of place strands of hair on his head, probably messied by our rough entrance. Automatically, my hand reaches out to move them back into place, but Lucio visibly flinches, releasing me and taking a step back.

“Sorry, your hair...” I point out the strand to him and he turns to smooth it back into his comb-over. Refusing to make eye contact, he looks forward, as if he has a great interest in the view, leaving us to spend a few moments in awkwardness.

Then, I watch as he notices something in the distance. Lucio does a double-take, inhaling sharply and rushing to his feet, eyes scanning the horizon in a slight panic. 

Curiously, I follow his line of sight to the tents with what I am now realising are soldiers practicing some combat routine. Saddled horses being fitted with armour, men sharpening their swords with whetstones, archers fletching steel-tipped arrows; This is a camp that’s readying for battle.

“What do you think they’re doing over there?” I barely finish my sentence before he’s rushing towards them, walking forth with purpose in every stride.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Though I hurry after him, he still reaches the camps before me, just in time to see a burly soldier decked out in full leather armour step out of the largest tent, adorned with coloured flags of gold and red. Inside, I can vaguely make out a figure seated in a massive armchair, posed like a king, with legs-crossed and a hand tapping on the wood impatiently. 

The soldier busts out a trumpet, trumpeting the whole camp to attention before commencing his announcement, “Gather round men! The boss has got something to say!”

A familiar rogue, dressed in crimson reds with not one, but two arms, gets up from the chair to stride out with swagger. He’s decked out in battle gear, leather padding to protect him and sword buckled to his side. Not quite like that of a knight or common soldier though, for he has daggers, small bombs, and other contraptions strapped to his waist. More mercenary than knight. This Lucio is far younger than the one I know, the attitude with which he carries himself screaming naive confidence.

“This is my memory.” The real Lucio grips the hilt of his sword tightly, growling the words out in a barely restrained anger. “Your stupid spell failed.”

I think back to what Asra said about unintentional side effects, “I don’t think so… I think that it’s doing its job, showing us memories. You being bonded to me must’ve mixed them up a bit is all. How early is this anyway? You still-”

“Yes, I have more than three appendages. Don’t worry, it won’t be for much longer.” He cuts me off sharply, watching the scene unfold before him.

I’m about to ask what he means by his words, but a man walks straight through me unexpectedly. “Right, we aren’t _actually_ here. Guess we could take a look around... Do you remember what’s going to happen?”

Lucio doesn’t respond to my inquiry as his younger self calls all his men to his side, about a good forty of them in total, to a large square wooden table with a crudely drawn map sprawled over its surface inside the tent. 

“This is where they’ll be trying to attack from, it’s the least defended side of the town.” He draws a line with charcoal across the map, circling a group of red Xs, “And that’s why we’ll take the horses back round, and charge them from the back. It should give us the advantage despite their numbers.” 

Every man listening nods their heads in agreement, their full undivided attention on their leader, standing at the ready in his presence.

“Next, after we’ve decimated their backline, I want our frontliners to charge them head-on. But stop short of this bushline, because we’ll be surprising them with a barrage of arrow fire.” He points at an archer, “How are the fire arrows coming along?”

“Good sir.” The archer salutes when he is addressed, answering Lucio with the respect you’d assign to a commander of great renown. “We have three barrages worth made already.”

“Great. That means we can scare their horses into hopefully bucking a few of them off,” He then pulls out a dagger, stabbing it into the table with great force, making me jump. Splinters fly off, but not a single soldier flinches, even the real Lucio stands unfazed as he crosses his arms and sighs disappointedly.

“Tonight! We end their lives!” His battle cry echoes through the air, and his men cheer with their fists pumped up in the air, excited to kill. 

Just then, a man, drenched in sweat runs into the camp, shouting something incomprehensible between pants. The soldiers part as Young Lucio reaches out to catch him with both arms, hoisting the poor fellow to look him in the eye without much effort.

“What is it man? Speak!” He commands the runner, who barely manages a whisper into his ear before collapsing. When Young Lucio removes his hand from the man for everyone to see, it’s slick with red, alarming the whole camp.

“Get this man some medical help now! Men, with me! It would seem that the enemy dares to attack before sundown, thinking us unprepared! We’ll show them!” The platoon scrambles to get ready, archers passing around some dark viscous liquid to coat their arrows in as others saddle up and gear up to ride. 

Young Lucio passes off the messenger to one of his men before shouting command after command, directing his men with the point of a finger as a large cloud of dust forms on the horizon with each passing second. With the charisma of a natural born leader, he assembles his crew, and they carry out his will. The horses take off before the enemy could come any closer, and there are a few shouts in the distance, signifying their success at picking a few off. The rest however, still press on.

“Here they come…” Both Lucios say in sync, one eager for a battle, rearing for a fight; The other tense and worried.

“You might not want to look.” The real Lucio advises me as the first wave of men charge to meet the enemy, stopping just a few metres away from the incoming horde of mounted bandits.

It’s too late for the enemy to stop advancing when they realise the trap that they’re falling into, as the younger Lucio wordlessly gestures for his archers to shoot, filling the sky with an array of burning arrows that head straight for the bandits.

Many hit their mark, killing a few instantly as the rest hit the ground around them. The dried grass lights up like tinder, causing many horses to dislodge their riders. I look on with morbid curiosity as screams can be heard from those burning alive. A sense of déjà vu comes over me when I can smell flesh, cooking in the air, but I quickly shake those thoughts out of my mind.

“This is what you used to do for a living?” I ask timidly, unsure what to expect as a response.

Pointing to his younger self, who’s running towards the enemy with sword in hand and a maniacal expression of happiness etched across his face, Lucio sighs before he replies, “See that? I used to love this life, but one day…”

“I don’t know why I’m hesitating, you’re already in my memories.” He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling nervously, “One day, I found the idea of blood on my sword repulsive. It wasn’t that the prospect of killing disgusted me, but that I no longer wanted to do it myself.”

Unable to form a reply, I train my eyes on the surrounding battle, on the men stabbing each other with swords all while covered in the guts of others. It’s horrid, and the implications that he had once enjoyed this sort of vile killings made my skin crawl. 

Then, I’m reminded of the dream I had. A warrior tribe, a fighting clan, _a plague of voracious beetles, leaving nothing but bare bones in our wake._

A shiver runs down my spine. It hadn't occurred to me during our little adventure that I might be travelling with a murderer. Not to mention one so skilled. Was this his life before the comfy pleasures of the palace? Constant bloodshed of others in some inane game of life and death?

As if to add emphasis to my point, Young Lucio lops off a man’s head with a firm slash of his sword. It rolls towards where we’re standing, stopping short of our feet to have its eyes look up at us, tongue lolling out as blood spurts out of the open end.

I jump, disgusted and horrified all at once, hiding behind Lucio, who automatically shields my vision from the horrors of the battlefield. He’s warm, and I find myself holding onto the fabric of his clothes, rubbing the silky fabrics together slightly for some form of comfort. How could anyone live after seeing such horrendous things? 

“I did tell you not to look.” My Lucio does the unthinkable, patting my head with a sigh. It’s a tad awkward for a second with his pats being so stiff. You’d think someone who loves his dogs as much as he does would be more efficient at petting.

We stay like that for a moment. Listening to the rise and fall of his chest calms me somewhat, till the sounds of swords clashing and screams start to die down. Feeling Lucio turning to look, I take the opportunity to take my own peek.

Before us stands only Young Lucio’s company of men, all identifiable by their red colouration. There’s splashes of blood on each frontline man, dying their whole outfits in the same shades of the beetles they use as their iconage. Young Lucio isn’t exempt either, some splotches even coating his face, giving the appearance of a ghastly painted-on mask. 

“Victory!!” He shouts for all to hear, and despite their evident weariness, each man pumps up a sword-holding fist into the air and yells back their battle cries. 

Everyone is overjoyed with adrenaline for a second, celebrating until they see a crowd of riderless horses ride past them fearfully. On one of them, a man hangs off the saddle, dead. His corpse is dragged by the poor, frightened mare, drawing the company’s eyes to follow it before the horse is stopped by the backline of archers. 

The whole group of riders that were sent to distract have been decimated. Emotions change at the flip of a switch, men all readying their blades once more towards the horizon. 

Another group rides in, all more grizzled, more experienced, than the foot soldiers they had all fought moments ago. You could see it in their dead-like expression. These men have long since abandoned all morals. Their horses slow when they come close, and Young Lucio holds his men back with the simple gesture of a closed fist, giving them pause as tensions begin to rise once more.

The biggest man I’ve ever seen, the size of a human mountain, slips off the back of his horse and approaches with a greatsword that he drags on the ground alongside him. He doesn’t even give his fallen men a second glance, approaching the current victors by himself. When he’s about an arm’s length away from Lucio, he raises the sword, pointing directly at him and beckoning with his free hand. 

In an instant, both men are at each other’s throats, swords flying without either’s men coming to help. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that this is a battle of honor, a battle to the death. 

Despite being outmatched in weight class, Young Lucio manages to parry quite a few blows, deflecting before going for a stab or slash several times. Each time he misses, for the bulk of his enemy is deceiving, disguising the fact that he’s as quick and springy as a rabbit.

After a full minute of fighting, neither party has landed a hit. Each time the heavy greatsword hits the ground in place of Lucio, the earth feels like it shudders around us, and I feel my heart tighten with anxiety. 

Both sides look like they’re tiring fast, becoming equally frustrated. Then, the mountain man makes a mistake, his want for the battle to end leaving him wide open as he tries to go for a wide slash. Lucio ducks with amazing dexterity, eyes completely focused as he uses the crouched position his legs are in as leverage to shoot himself forth, sword first. 

The blade pierces skin at last, moving into the mountain man’s chest, right where his heart should be. The giant drops his greatsword and staggers backwards, but Lucio does not let him go, following every step to drive the blade in deeper before twisting. With his final breath he tries to yell out, but only manages to gurgle through the blood pooling within his throat. 

‘Thump!” His body falls to the ground and Lucio, after taking a quick moment to breath, turns to face his men in celebration. His sword bearing arm pumps into the air with what little energy he has left. Slowly, his men begin to cheer for him, completely shocked that he could defeat such a monster of a man. 

Before anyone can react, a greatsword comes flying towards Young Lucio, the mountain man not quite dead, exacting his revenge before fully expiring. Young Lucio dodges, but not in time. His older counterpart covers my eyes immediately with his golden hand, obscuring my sight as I hear the sound of a pained howl. 

There’s sounds of a panic, men rushing to kill each other once more as both leaders have been downed. Battle resumes without rest, screams more passionate than before. 

Seconds tick by as I stand stunned. What has happened? Why won’t Lucio let me see? I resist the urge to sate my morbid curiosity by tearing his hands away from my face, trusting his judgement that the scene before me is too horrible to bear.

When everything stops for the second and last time, Lucio carefully removes his hands, revealing the red-painted dirt with Young Lucio half collapsed in the very centre of it, on his knees whilst still clutching his sword.

Then, I see it, the deep cut from the greatsword, a parting gift from his enemy. The wound is deep, sinews cut clean in half. Bone can be seen clearly, and the smell of blood lingers like a mist. It fills me with thoughts of déjà vu again, prompting a sudden wave of nausea to fill me. I turn away, clutching my stomach. 

Scenes of a burning isle sequestered off the shore of Vesuiva, a dozen different sets of bones being removed from a pile of ash…

I shake my head to dispel those thoughts, Memories? and return my sight to Young Lucio being dragged off the battlefield into town urgently. 

“We should follow them!” I pull on Lucio’s sleeve, dragging him along with me to the nearby local tavern where Young Lucio is hauled off on the shoulders of his men to.

Before I can step foot inside, he stops me, catching my arm just as I caught a glimpse of one Doctor Julian Devorak inside, attending to his patient. 

“Was that Julian?” I ask Lucio, who looks almost embarrassed to be here, holding onto my arm tightly.

When he doesn’t answer, I ask another question, “Why can’t I go in to watch?” 

“It’s bloody.” He states matter-of-factly, adamant that I shouldn’t enter.

“I’ve already seen ‘bloody’ today, this shouldn’t be much different.” 

He’s about to respond when we’re interrupted by his younger self yelling all sorts of obscenities. I can vaguely hear Julian giving directions to get him some water and some tools too. They probably stuff a rag inside Young Lucio’s mouth, because the shrieking is soon replaced by muffled shrieking. 

“Oh, it’s _far_ different.” Lucio positions himself in front of me, blocking me from sneaking any possible glances. “This is my memory, right? You’re violating my privacy just by being here. I didn’t agree to getting my mind invaded today.” 

I try to push past, but he only repositions himself, this time leaning his whole weight against the wall backing me, making sure I have my sights on him and _only_ him. He tuts and waves a finger condescendingly at me, “Nope.” 

“What is your problem?!” 

“I have no problems, I’m a flawless being.” He replies sarcastically as I make an attempt to glare into his soul, or lack thereof.

A few moments pass and another screech can be heard, the loudest so far, as well as the sound of metal cutting through some hollowish object. Silence fills the tavern. Then, faint... sobbing? Lucio tries his best to snap his fingers and draw my attention to him in a futile attempt to keep me from listening. Julian soon declares that his operation is finished with a tired sigh, followed by the clatter of chairs being moved around. 

In a moment of weakness, Lucio lets down his guard, glancing inside for himself, taking his attention off of me. This gives me the opportunity to dash under his arm and inside, curiosity at the forefront of my mind. 

Inside the tavern, Julian, with his back turned to the doorway, cleans off some bloody medical instruments in the corner as all the soldiers from before sit around the place listlessly, unaffected by the solemness that hangs over the room like a persistent fog. Some even begin to drink to their earlier victory, completely ignorant of their leader’s suffering.

Speaking of, curled up on a clothed table pushed against the far left wall, a young Lucio hugs himself, no one really paying him any mind except the good doctor, who tries to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder. Lucio uses his one good hand to swat Julian away, showcasing the bandaged up stump as he moves to do so. He looks so… angry. That is the only apt word to describe it. 

His tears have dried, leaving streaks all over his face in their wake over reddened cheeks and smudged black warpaint. Furiously rubbing the remainder away from his eyes, he causes them to turn slightly red, reminding me of the current Lucio’s coal-for-eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Lucio, the older, tears me away from the doorframe and yells, face creasing into an irritated expression, “I told you not to look!” 

“So this is how you lost your arm?” I prod, conscience scolding me in the back of my mind for it.

He turns scarlet, embarrassed to no end, “What’s it to you?! Want to hear that I made a mistake? Lost my arm and my men the next day?! That they deemed me unfit to lead them with one less arm and decided to take off in the middle of the night **with my pay**?!” 

I clam up, unsure how to respond to new details. I don’t know why there’s such a strong inquisitiveness to uncover every aspect of this memory in me right now. Perhaps it was the want to unlock all my sealed memories, or maybe I was just a busybody. 

Lucio leans against the wall and slides down it into a crouching position, ruffling his own hair in stress, “You and that witch. Bringing me back here…” He mutters under his breath some choice expletives to accompany his description of Asra.

“Hey! Don’t say that about him.” I sit cross-legged next to him, frowning when he compares Asra to a toad with a drinking problem. 

“I’ll say what I like. It’s only right, seeing as how you’ve both disregarded my opinion on being here.” He sneers, refusing to make eye contact.

“Sorry,” I say so softly that it might as well be a whisper, “I didn’t know this would happen. It must be traumatic for you to relive this.” 

“Traumatic?” Lucio suddenly bursts out laughing, much to my confusion, “I’m not traumatised. I’m disgusted.” 

He gestures to the inside of the tavern, scoffing, “Look at me! Pathetic. Weak. I wasn’t smart enough to make sure my enemy was dead and paid the appropriate price for it. If only they could see me! They’d all have a laugh.”

“Who? Morga?” The name slips out on accident, catching Lucio’s attention.

“How do you know that name?! No one should know it!”

“I um... “ I tell him what I saw, what I heard, through his senses in that dream. At first, he looks like he doesn’t want to believe me, but as I tell him about the wyrm, realisation dawns on him and a horrified expression crosses his face. 

“You’ve been looking into my mind?! _How could you?!_ ” I can see him restrain himself from tossing out more curse words. 

“I couldn’t help it! Besides, I had no idea it was yours to begin with!” I let my gaze wander, watching a group of young children playing with a wheel, pushing it along with the sticks they’ve armed themselves with, “Not like I wanted to anyways. My own memories are all I wish for.” 

“You’re not going to find them in mine, I can tell you that much. I hoped to never see this place again, honestly. Now you’ve gone and dragged up all manner of awful feelings for me.” 

“... Wanna talk about it?” I offer a listening ear. Being one that deals with tarot readings means that I’m pretty darn good at it after all.

“No.”

“You sure?” 

Annoyed by my pestering, he breaks from his sulking for a second to scold me, “Of course I’m sure! I know my feelings better than anyone else and I don’t need some soothsayer hack giving me any advice. Your cards are false, you know that? The reading you gave me didn’t even tell me anything I didn’t already know.” 

“What did Strength say to you anyways? You didn’t say so before.” 

Lucio considers deflecting the question away, I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide which quip to use. But with a heavy sigh, he resolves himself and begins to tell me, “If I hide it, you’ll just find it in my memories with some voodoo magic so I might as well just tell you. She told me to stop being so… ‘strong’.” 

He uses air quotations around the word ‘strong’, groaning in disgruntlement, “It was confusing, she wanted me to stop being… fake? Fake strength for real strength, yada-yada. Don’t know what she means by it though. My strength is _definitely_ real.”

“Maybe she wanted you to open up your heart more. ‘Real strength comes from within’ or however the saying goes.” I ramble off my interpretation of it, feeling the seeds of trust starting to sprout between us, “You said that you aren’t affected by this whole situation, but I think you are, or you wouldn’t be acting this way. C’mon Lucio, when was the last time you talked to someone about your problems?” 

Lucio doesn’t respond, mouth hanging open as if he wants to say something, though nothing comes out. He thinks deeply, furrowing his brows in thought. 

“You okay?” I gently put a hand on his shoulder, in a moment of camaraderie.

“... I think so. But still not going to tell you anything, if that’s what you were waiting for.” 

I playfully smack him, “Did you at least come to some big moment of understanding or something?” 

A small weight looks like it has disappeared from him, almost insignificant, but a weight less either way. “Perhaps. I suppose I owe you my thanks.” 

I stand, feeling my legs slowly dying to pins and needles, “It’s fine, I’m the one who dragged you on this adventure.” 

He puts on a smile that looks just a little bit brighter and more genuine than all others I’ve seen, “Speaking of which, how are we supposed to get out of here?”

As if on cue, the world around us starts to sway and turn to dust, erasing the horizon, the village, and lastly the tavern. We move closer to each other automatically as the ground gives way to a dark void with no end. Soon, the small patch of grass that remained under our feet disappears too, leaving us to fall into the abyss, and the winds pick us up once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so not a very long chapter for such a long wait, but it’s a jam packed one nonetheless. 
> 
> Also, now that the magic system is more or less panned out, I’m going to leave it with the end notes that come with every chapter. I will take feedback on it, so please use the proper channels to contact me if you want to add to it. If you do use it for your own works, OCs or whatever, add my user as credits and give me a heads up! Especially for fics since I’d want to read them to see your own interpretations. Though, if you prefer to learn about the system naturally through the story, then I recommend you skip it and read these chapters instead, as I plan on adding everything eventually.
> 
> Chapters will not be coming out as often since A) these are hella long and B) I’ve got work. And so do my beta-writers. So we can only promise to release chapters as often as possible. Sometime in the near future we might consider writing the prologue (again) since it’s now been revamped and adding it to the story. 
> 
> Once again, contact me @paramnesiagirl on tumblr if you need to, or just in the comments down below if you’ve got any unanswered questions or ideas. See y’all in like a month.

**Author's Note:**

> I take feedback on the story, writing mistakes, etc etc. Please comment with your feedback and your account for me to DM. Don't worry, I moderate all comments and will not post it if your username is there. The platforms I'm on are Reddit and Tumblr under the username ParamnesiaGirl for both (though tumblr is no caps), so please use these platforms to give feedback or just the comments section on this site.
> 
> Link to Lore, Enhanced Edition: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jvnfE77oOLL5VgJGaeWzGsYDBlQ9j7MpZE2HzlQqgiY/edit?usp=sharing


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